


Retrograde

by dragonbagel



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Psychological Torture, Sex Work, Torture, Violence, brief mention of a suicide attempt, cue jack's mental torture, i took...a lot of creative liberties with this lmao, rhys bouta get fucked up, srsly this is just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonbagel/pseuds/dragonbagel
Summary: Rhys and Jack get in a fight. Then Rhys gets kidnapped. Cue the motherfucking angst.





	1. What Happened Between You and Rhys?

“Jack? You in here?”

Upon hearing his name, Handsome Jack glanced up from the glass of scotch he’d been nursing to see the door to his penthouse apartment jostling in its frame. He remained silent, taking another sip of his drink and reveling in the burning feeling in his throat and the haze in his brain. He hoped whoever was at the door would take the hint and leave; he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a week, not since…

He took another gulp to block out the memory, shuddering and running his hand through his unwashed hair.

The knocking on the door stopped, and Jack felt a sigh pass through his lips. That relief was soon squandered when the heavy-duty bolts on the door began to undo themselves in a quick succession of clicks. Jack slid his pistol from his ankle holster, taking off the safety. The door’s lock was calibrated to the retinal scans of only Jack himself and Rhys; but after what had happened last week, Jack knew his apartment was the last place Rhys would be going to. He felt another pang of anguish rip through him as he aimed his weapon at the door. Who knew? Maybe a little murder would be good for him.

“Christ, Jack, would you put the damn gun down?” the figure in the door said with his arms slightly raised.

“Shit, sorry,” Jack muttered, re-holstering his weapon in shame as he recognized his visitor. “What are you doing here, Tim?”

His doppelganger closed the door behind him before crossing his arms and stepping closer to Jack. “I came to check on you.”

“Well congrats, you checked, I’m fine,” Jack snapped. “Thanks for breaking into my fucking apartment.”

Tim chuckled. “It’s not my fault we’re identical. At least, almost identical.”

Jack suddenly became aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask, fingers feeling around the couch he was sitting on as he stared at his bare feet self-consciously. He’d never been a fan of socks, that was all Rhys; if anything, Jack hated socks now more than ever.

“Here,” Tim said, reaching forward to hand Jack his mask. Jack quickly snatched it from him, fumbling to cover his face. His fingers were shaking from the cocktail of anger, sadness and alcohol in his brain, and as hard as he tried he couldn’t get the latches to clasp. Fuck it, he thought as he let the mask fall into his lap. Why did it even matter?

“Jack, talk to me,” Tim said softly. “What happened?”

“Nothing fucking happened!” Jack snarled, rising to stand only to stagger with tipsiness.

Tim stared at him with wide eyes.

“Nothing happened,” Jack repeated tiredly, sitting back down and massaging his temples. He could still feel Tim watching him.

“You haven’t been at work all week,” Tim said, moving to stand directly in front of Jack, who was still avoiding his gaze. “I’ve seen you have as many temper tantrums as the rest of Helios combined, but I’ve  _ never _ seen you miss work.”

Jack snorted. “Surprise is the spice of life, right, princess?”

Tim bit his lip, unsure of how to continue. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to get attacked by Jack, but at the same time something had to be done. He’d been elected by his and Jack’s mutual friend group to serve as the interventionist since he could enter Jack’s penthouse (perks of being a doppelganger) and would be the least likely to instigate a fight.

“I know something happened between you and Rhys,” Tim said finally, trying to keep his tone as non-confrontational as possible.

Jack’s head snapped up at the mention of Rhys’ name, his undamaged eye widening in hurt before molding itself into a glare. “Did he put you up to this?” he hissed.

Tim shook his head. “No, I, uh, ran into him at August’s bar a few nights back. He was drunk, doing shots by himself. Didn’t look too good.”

Jack continued to glower, although he couldn’t completely drown out the sadness bubbling within him. Rhys was out drinking alone? He’d thought his binge-drinking days were over…

“I went up to say hi and he,” Tim paused, fidgeting. “Well, he must’ve thought I was you.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked lowly, locking eyes with Tim. “Tim, what the fuck did he say to you?”

“No Jack, what did  _ you  _ say to  _ him _ ?” Tim shot back, growing angry. “He tried to attack me! Yelling at me about stalking him and lying to him. I know he was wasted but God, Jack, you must’ve done something to set him off like that.”

“I didn’t say anything to that lying son of a taint that wasn’t true!” Jack roared, fists clenching at his sides.

Tim took a step back, not liking the anger seething from the other man. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he reiterated, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I just want to know what happened.”

“You wanna know what happened? Huh, Tim Tams, you wanna know?” he shouted. “Rhys fucking cheated on me, and then had the nerve to lie about it to my fucking face! That’s what fucking happened!”

“How do you--”

“How do I know?” Jack cut in. “Because I caught him with his Pandoran fuckbuddy ex-girlfriend, that’s how!”

There was a moment of silence as Tim tried to process what he’d just heard. Jack strode over to the counter to refill his cup with scotch, willing to do anything to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.

“You..saw him with her?” Tim said slowly. He hadn’t known Rhys for very long, but he didn’t strike him as the type to cheat, especially not in a long-term relationship.

“Well,” Jack began, taking another swig of his drink. “Not in person, no.”

When Tim gave him a “what the hell” look, Jack hurried to continue. “I have tracker implanted in Rhys’ ECHOeye in case of emergencies; being around the boss-man does run its risks. But what do I see when I go to check in on my boyfriend? He’s out to dinner with that dangerous slut Sasha!”

By now Jack was gripping the glass in his hand so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

“What’s the big deal? It was just dinner,” Tim said.

“The big deal is that he’s my fucking boyfriend, Tim! And yeah, I thought maybe it was just a friend thing at first. But next thing I know, Rhys is alone with her in an apartment-- _ her  _ apartment--for an hour. I know Rhys used to whore around on Pandora before he came up to work here, but you’d think,” Jack’s voice cracked as his anger gave way to grief. “You’d think I’d be enough for him to call it quits by now.”

Jack’s lips curled into a snarl at the thought of Rhys,  _ his _ Rhys, in bed with that piece of trash. God, he could fucking murder the both of them right now.

“Jack,” the doppelganger spoke after a minute. “Why were you tracking Rhys’ ECHOeye?”

He sighed, glaring at Tim. He wasn’t in the mood for this. But he knew that if Tim left without answers, he’d come back with Wilhelm and, god forbid, Nisha, who would do everything to make this shitshow of a situation even worse.

“He got a text from Sasha. He was in the bathroom, so I checked it for him. I didn’t know he still talked to the bitch after the awful terms they’d ended on. So imagine my surprise when she’s helping set the date for a…’meet up,’ I think that’s what she called it,” Jack practically sneered. “So when the day came for their secret fuck-session, I watched him go. I didn’t want him to. Hell, I prayed I was wrong. But there he went.”

Tim pursed his lips. “So you  _ were _ stalking him.”

“I wasn’t stalking him!” Jack retorted, to which Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Jack, you need to talk to him.”

“No!” Jack shook his head. “It’s been a week; if he wanted to talk, he’d have called by now.”

Tim sighed. Why did Jack always have to be so difficult? “Please call him. If you do, I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fine,” Jack said, scowling, as he whipped his phone out of his pocket. Anything to make this jerk go away.

His finger froze on the touch screen over Rhys’ contact, hovering above the photo of the man he loved and whom he’d thought loved him in return. Seeing Rhys there, smiling in one of Jack’s old Hyperion sweatshirts, made his heart hurt. Did Jack do something wrong? Or had Rhys just been lying from the start?

Tim cleared his throat, prompting Jack to start the call. He shakily held the phone up to his ear, trying to breathe normally as he listened to the ringing noise. But the ringing didn’t stop, and soon he was redirected to Rhys’ voicemail.

“He didn’t answer,” Jack snapped, ending the call. “You can leave now.”

Tim nodded, heading towards the door despite his lack of success; a deal was a deal, after all.

He froze when the phone in Jack’s hand started to ring.

Jack quickly pressed accept, despite seeing Rhys’ contact information displayed. Sure, he was angry; but a part of him also wanted to know that Rhys was okay, especially after not seeing him for a week. Besides, if Rhys wanted to talk, who was he to deny it? A confession was in order, after all.

“Hello?” he said, beginning to fidget.

“Is this Handsome Jack?” a deep voice asked-- a deep voice that didn’t belong to Rhys.

“Who’s asking?” Jack replied, suddenly in a defensive mode.

“Unimportant.”

“Listen, I don’t know how you got this phone, but I need to talk to its owner,” he said, all but exasperated at this point.

“Sure thing,” the speaker said with a chuckle. He heard a scuffle, and then heavy breathing.

“J-Jack,” someone whimpered. No, not someone-- Rhys.

“Rhysie? What’s going on? Where are y--”

Jack was cut short by a sharp cry of pain, shoving all previous thoughts of anger towards Rhys to the back of his mind in favor of mentally destroying whoever it was on the phone.

“Don’t you touch him!” he snarled, the effects the alcohol quickly evaporating.

The voice on the other end of the line simply chuckled. “If you do as I say, I won’t have to.”

With those words, the call disconnected, leaving Jack alone in silence.


	2. Rhys' Life Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's torture time bitches

When Rhys woke up, he really wished he hadn’t.

He felt like he’d been run over multiple times, his bones achy and his muscles sore. His head was throbbing like a bitch, although that could’ve just been his hangover. When he cracked his eyes open, the harsh fluorescent lights above him caused them to water.

“Where am I?” he croaked, his voice dry and coarse. How long had he been asleep?

Upon receiving no answer, he shakily raised himself to stand. He found himself in some sort of underground room-- at least, he thought it was underground, considering the stuffy mildew smell permeating the air. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it; he was on a space station for god's sake, how the hell could he be underground?

He sighed, turning his attention to inspecting his surroundings. There were stone walls on all sides of him, and he detected the stench of something moldy and rancid growing on the ceiling. His bare feet were almost as pale as the freezing tiles beneath them, and he registered the small splatters of dried up blood stained onto the stones with a shudder. He needed to get out of here, pronto.

He felt along the walls in search of an indent, hoping to find the outline of a door or a passage or really anything that could get him out of here. When he’d sufficiently patted down every inch of exposed concrete with no luck, he sighed, leaning against the wall. He didn’t like this at all. He’d never thought of himself as claustrophobic before, but with the absence of any view into the outside world...well, the walls were getting a little too close for comfort.

He hugged his arms against his body in an attempt to preserve the limited heat on his scrawny frame, because damn had the room just gotten colder all of a sudden?

It was when his freezing fingers brushed against a fresh bruise on his bicep with a sting of pain that he realized he was shirtless. He looked over the rest of his body in a panic, seeing his tattoos snaking across his chest all the way down to the waistband of his obnoxious Hyperion yellow boxers that he swore he’d thrown out. And that..that was it. Had he done something while he was drunk? Had he-- had he cheated on Jack?

The memories (not to mention the bile) rising up the back of his throat reminded him that he didn’t care either way. Why not prove Jack’s suspicions right? The asshole had it drilled in his head that Rhys was out whoring around and, well, that lack of trust did something to a man. He’d gone through his phone, for Christ’s sake! Sure, he’d had his fair share of hookups back on Pandora; but that was back when he could barely afford to put clothes on his back, not to mention when he was single.

He’d told Jack that it was different now. He’d _trusted_ him. And for what? God, what kind of lies had Rhys been telling himself? Maybe he was nothing more than a good-for-nothing slutty Pando--

“Well, well, well, look who’s _finally_ awake!”

Rhys’ head snapped up at the sound. “Who said that?”

“I did,” the voice said smugly, and Rhys looked around wildly for the source.

“Ah ah ah, Rhysie, you can’t see me.” Hearing his nickname-- _Jack’s_ nickname-- thrown at him sent shudders through his body.

“Who are you?” Rhys asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. The last thing he needed was that asshole feeling any more self-satisfied.

Instead of a response, Rhys was met with a sharp jab on his side followed by an awful buzzing sound and what felt like electric fire coursing through his body. He cried out as the pain subsided, leaning up against the wall for support and panting. When he looked down, he saw an angry red burn mark on his flesh from whatever had shocked him.

“It’s not nice to forget someone’s name,” the sickly voice came again, dark and snide and...oddly familiar.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rhys replied. “Would you mind reminding me instead of fucking _electrocuting me_?”

The speaker chuckled, and suddenly the wall before him started to fade into a transparent glass. Rhys narrowed his eyes when he saw the man sneering down at him. He’d know that obnoxious grin and terrible combover anywhere.

“Vasquez,” he spat, pushing himself up from the wall to approach the other man.

“See, all you had to do was ask nicely,” Vasquez said, laughing to himself.

Rhys continued to glare. “What do you want with me?”

Vasquez let out another frankly nauseating laugh. “You think I want something from you? That’s cute, it really is. No, after spending a year working as your manager before you switched departments, I’d be happy to never have to see your bratty, entitled ass again. Although,” he continued, another smirk playing at his lips. “Your ass isn’t half bad to look at.”

Rhys felt his face grow hot, but tried to push his self-consciousness back down. “Then why am I here?”

Vasquez sighed in frustration, and a moment later Rhys felt another stab at his side. He hissed and fell to his knees as he clutched at it, refusing to break eye contact with Vasquez even as his eyes watered in pain. “Look kid, you’ve got a pretty mouth, but I’m gonna need you to shut it for once in your life.”

Rhys scowled but remained silent; his side was still on fire and hurting like a bitch, and he wasn’t in the mood for any more pain than necessary.

“Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I was explaining how the accident that landed me with you will actually turn out for the better,” Vasquez said as he began to pace. “You see, as a valued Hyperion employee, I have many connections with the higher-ups; connections that you, a lowly programmer, can in no way imagine. It was through these connections that I found an interesting little tidbit about Jack Lawrence: he has a doppelganger.”

Rhys bit his lip, trying to convince his face muscles to remain neutral. How the hell did Vasquez know about Tim?

“In case your teeny tiny brain doesn’t know what the word ‘doppelganger’ means, it’s a clone,” Vasquez continued.

“I know what a fucking doppelganger is,” Rhys muttered, to which he received another hit from what he could now see was an electrode protruding from the wall. He gasped, the pain even more blinding than before, and fell to all fours.

“What did I _say_ about talking?” Vasquez snarled before clearing his throat and advancing in his speech like Rhys’ body wasn’t crying out in anguish. “Now, possessing this doppelganger would be the key to the success of my...endeavor. So, of course, I enlisted one of my associates to grab him for me,” he said, pronouncing the word “associates” like it was the plague. “I should’ve known not to trust a bandit to do my bidding.”

Vasquez cast his gaze to the side, and Rhys followed it with his eyes to see a bloodied corpse resting in the corner. He swallowed, trying to keep his now rising panic from becoming visible.

“But I can’t say it’s been all bad. Sure, I don’t have access to Jack’s fingerprints, retinas, DNA and whatever the fuck else he uses as security in this place,” Vasquez said, approaching Rhys so that his face was practically touching the glass separating them. “But I do have Jack’s boyfriend.”

Rhys jerked back at the word, a strange contortion of sadness, fear and anger playing out across his face.

“Please, Rhys, have some class. Everyone knows you’ve been fucking the boss-man. There’s no way someone of such limited abilities would ever be given such a promotion based on merit alone,” Vasquez said, laughing to himself. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, though. For once you’re actually going to be useful.”

“What are you--” Rhys started to ask before he felt a cold metallic grasp on his flesh shoulder, dragging him upwards hard enough to bruise the skin despite his clawing at it.

“What am I talking about?” Vasquez said, initiating a sequence on the glass before it slid open so he could enter the small room. “I’m talking about how if I can’t get dear ol’ Jack’s codes myself, I’m going to have to convince him to give them to me.”

Rhys attempted to scoot back away from the sadistic glint in Vasquez’s eyes, but what he now realized was a corrupted Loader Bot held him firmly in place. Vasquez continued to approach him, brandishing something shiny in his hands. No, not just something shiny: a crowbar.

His feet scraped uselessly across the tiled floor as he tried to escape, eyes searching wildly for some way out that he knew didn’t exist. His ECHOeye refused to turn on, blinking out randomly and being just utterly useless.

“Alright Rhys,” Vasquez said, now towering directly over Rhys’ panicked form. “Let’s get to work.”

The last thing he remembered was the snapping feeling as the crowbar dug into the socket between his cybernetic arm and shoulder before he passed out.


	3. We Have to Find Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries to find Rhys. He fails miserably.

“Fuck! I’m going to kill that son of a taint! I’m going to kill him, you hear me?” Jack yelled, angrily pacing around his penthouse as Tim stared with wide eyes.

“Jack, you need to calm down and think about this clea--”

“Think about this clearly?” Jack roared, stomping over to his doppelganger. “What part of Rhys being in danger do you not get? They’re fucking hurting him, Tim!”

Tim remained silent for a moment-- and silence was one thing that Handsome Jack simply could not tolerate.

“Do I need to send you back to whatever cloning lab you came from or did you get more from me than just my dashing good looks? Because I need you to actually think right now!” Jack shouted, leaning in Tim’s face in hopes of the message sinking in.

“Back off, Jack,” Tim replied cooly, pushing the other man off of him. “Do you want my help or not?”

“I--yeah, I do, I’m sorry, it’s just,” Jack broke off, apologies never being his strong suit. “We have to find him.”

Tim nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing what Jack could see was Nisha’s number. It took all of his self control not to snatch the phone from his hands, considering the lawbringer’s gloating would just be the icing on the shitshow cake that was his night so far. But no, he had to think about Rhys.

“I’m going to track his ECHOeye,” Jack said, heading to the computer in his home office. He anxiously tapped his fingers against the desk as he waited for the system to boot up and then worked to locate Rhys. When the screen finally showed a blinking set of coordinates, Jack was already halfway out the door, hurriedly clasping his mask back onto his face as he sprinted towards the marked location. Never mind the fact that Tim was left gaping in the doorway, utterly confused as always.

“I’m coming, Rhysie,” Jack said under his breath as he ran. “Don’t you worry.”

The coordinates led him to an obsolete sector of Helios, one that was mainly used for storing old equipment and the occasional taxidermied skag. He hadn’t been in here since his first year of training and, from the looks of the fine coating of dust on every surface, neither had anyone else. It was the underbelly of the station, just beneath the Eye, and to be honest it was quite stuffy down here.

Jack had heard rumors that the infrastructure was a part of the old Atlas Corporation, which had possessed power over Helios before the rise of Hyperion. Well, if it was Atlas, served them right-- those bastards deserved even worse.

“Rhys?” Jack called as he approached the coordinates, not caring how ridiculous he probably sounded. He slid his pistol out of his thigh holster as he walked, eyes darting around as he tried to look at both his phone and the deserted corridor around him.

His phone started beeping in his hand, signifying he’d reached his destination. He frowned. “Stupid piece of shit,” he muttered, glaring at the emptiness surrounding him. Who had programmed this junk? He was going to have them airlocked the second he sorted out this mess.

He continued to walk around, hoping to find anything that would make his mad dash to timbuktu worth it. And, just as he was ready to go home and pour himself another way-too-tall glass of scotch, he heard it: a crunching sound. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been looking for, but hell, he’d take it.

He took a step back, searching for the source of the sound. Of course, despite his frantic looking, he found nothing. God, maybe he really was losing it. He began to restart the long trek towards the elevator when he heard it again. It sounded like one of those annoying torks shattering after he shot them with a cryo gun. It sounded like...an ECHOeye being crushed.

“Fuck!” Jack yelled to nobody in particular, bringing himself to balance on his left leg in a way-too-wobbly manner as he pried the cracked remains of Rhys’ ECHOeye from the bottom of his right boot. The normally blue iris of the lens was blinking in and out, the bloodied wiring still sparking after being ripped from Rhys’ head. Jack felt nauseous at the thought.

“What did they do to you babe?” he whispered to himself, staring at the eye as if it would somehow lead him to Rhys.

Although the eye didn’t do anything in particular to help, the faint trail of blood Jack was suddenly aware of steered him in the right direction. Shit, why hadn’t he thought to look for blood before? He quickly followed the blood through the winding corridors, each stuffier than the last. Jack couldn’t wait to get his hands on whoever this asshole was.

“S-stop!”

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout of pain as he slowed to a halt. “Rhys?”

“He’s not going to come,” Rhys’ voice came again, and Jack ran towards it as if on autopilot. “You’re wasting your time.”

“How cute of you to think that,” said another voice. “You underestimate his possessiveness over his playthings.”

Jack shuddered as he realized it was the same voice he’d heard earlier on the phone.

A slapping sound followed by a shout of pain spurred Jack to move faster, Rhys’ screams becoming louder as Jack approached. This fucker was messing with the wrong guy, that was for sure.

Unfortunately, when Jack reached the source of the noise, there was nobody physically there for him to beat the shit out of. The plain room was completely empty, save one blood-stained item lying in its center.

It was Rhys’ cybernetic arm.

With a horrified gasp, Jack realized that the sounds were attached to the video feed being projected from the robotic palm. Kneeling close to the hand, Jack searched for any hint of a location in the video, but all he could see was Rhys’ face, contorted in pain; at least, that’s all his brain would allow him to see. The other man’s eyes were screwed shut in anguish, and Jack could see blood trickling from his neural port as well as his nose. His teeth were clenched together behind bruised lips, almost like an attempt to keep the sounds of his pain from being heard.

“Rhys!” he shouted again, his fists curling into anger as he saw Rhys flinch on the projection before a loud cracking noise caused him to cry out.

“J-Jack,” he whimpered, his eyes fluttering open weakly.

“Can you hear me babe?” he asked, leaning even closer to Rhys’ severed limb.

Rhys simply nodded before sobbing again as Jack saw what looked like one of Nisha’s tricked-out whips strike his chest, leaving dark red spots over the blue tattoos.

“I’m coming to get you princess, don’t worry,” Jack said, gingerly taking the limb into his arms to inspect back at home despite the nauseous feeling accompanying the thought of carrying his boyfriend’s blood-spattered arm. “I just need to know where you are. Can you tell me where you are, pumpkin?”

Rhys’ lips began to shakily open before a hand suddenly clamped on top of them. “See, Rhysie? I told you he’d come for you.”

Jack felt the rage inside him burning even hotter than he’d thought possible. Nobody got to call Rhys that name but him. _Nobody_.

“Listen here, jackass, you’re going to tell me where you are right now and maybe, just maybe, I won’t rip all of your limbs off before I toss you out an airlock.”

The camera jerked away from its focus on Rhys to show the smirk of his captor. “Oh, I’ll tell you where I am, Jack. I just need you to do me a little favor first. And if you don’t, well,” the voice was cut off by what was unmistakably the breaking of a bone followed by Rhys’ scream. “I guess I’ll just have to spend some more quality time with your boy toy.”


	4. A Vault Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at that it's some actual plot

A vault key. The son of a taint wanted a vault key. Jack sighed angrily, running a hand through his already disheveled hair as he fumed silently. He’d returned to his penthouse a few hours ago, carrying Rhys’ disembodied arm as he ran through the station. It was difficult to hear the bandit’s demands over the blood thumping in his ears and Rhys’ occasional screams, but Jack got the gist: the only trade that would be accepted for Rhys’ life was a vault key.

“Careful, old man; if you keep tearing at your hair like that, it may not grow back.”

Jack looked up from his lap to scowl. “Shut up, Nisha.”

Nisha raised her hands in feigned surrender. “Damn, sorry for trying to lighten the mood. You can go back to moping now if you want.”

“Wait,” Jack said, reaching out to grab Nisha’s wrist before she left the room again. “Have you found anything?”

Nisha bit her lip before shaking her head. “We’re working on it, but he’s done some serious coding on this thing.”

Jack sighed again. “I’ll be in there in a minute.”

“Jack, I don’t think that’s the best i--”

“Can it,” Jack snapped. “I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions.”

Nisha nodded slowly, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “Alright. I’ll tell them you’re coming in.”

Jack stalked over to the kitchen counter as the lawbringer retreated back to his home office which he’d previously been kicked out of because of what Tim called his “emotional vulnerability.” Jack still didn’t know what the hell that was supposed to mean, because of course the ruler of the freaking galaxy didn’t have “emotions,” least of all “vulnerability.” Just the thought of that word made him cringe. So what if he’d almost blown their cover by yelling threats at the bandit? It wasn’t _his_ fault that Rhys had been beaten again before Wilhelm could cut the surveillance to hack under the radar, and it certainly wasn’t a sign of “emotional vulnerability.”

The rational part of him knew that he shouldn’t be in that room; he had practically no skill at hacking or skirting firewalls, and shooting the damn thing would only make their predicament worse. And even though the output end of communication had been killed by Wilhelm so that the vault hunters could work and speak without fear of detection, the input needed to stay online-- meaning that Jack had already heard enough of Rhys’ screams to fuel his nightmares for a lifetime.

Jack wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his vision bleary with lack of sleep and inordinate amounts of stress. He grabbed a mug at random from the cupboard and popped a coffee pod into the miniature machine, waiting impatiently for it to brew. He topped it off with a dash of whiskey for good measure before carrying his cocktail into the office. Rhys’ arm was still laying on the desk, although Wilhelm and Nisha were now crowded around it. The projection of Rhys’ bloodied face showed him to be unconscious, his pale chest rising and falling in a stuttering pattern that made Jack’s heart hurt.

He spotted Tim sitting in the lounge chair in the corner, silently watching the other two poke at the arm with the metallic instruments Wilhelm had brought over with him. Jack made his way over to him, perching himself on the armrest and taking a sip of his drink. The hot burn of the coffee mixed with the acrid scorching of the whiskey down his throat was a pain that Jack was all too happy to lose himself in.

“You okay?”

Jack looked over at his doppelganger before forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Nisha looked over her shoulder like she was about to deliver another snarky remark when Wilhelm held up a hand to silence her. “I think I found something,” he said slowly, his fingers suddenly flying across the main computer’s keys as he brought up a holographic map of Helios.

Jack launched himself towards the desk, pushing Nisha aside so that he could get a better look.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently, beginning to chug the rest of his drink as he waited for a response.

“Give me a second,” Wilhelm replied, still typing furiously.

“We don’t _have_ a second!” Jack yelled, and maybe it was the combination of the caffeine and alcohol in his brain, but damnit he was ready to let the punches start flying.

“Oh, knock it off Jack!” Nisha said, glaring. “We’re trying to do you a fucking favor.”

“A favor?” Jack snarled. “A favor would’ve been saving Rhys before this shit went from bad to worse to completely fucked! It’s been hours, Nisha! I need to find him!”

Before Nisha could give Jack a piece of her mind (or her fist), another voice cut into the room.

“T-the key.”

“What the hell?” Jack said, searching wildly around the room before his eyes settled on Rhys’ projected image. His eye was cracked slightly open, and he stared at Jack as if he knew he was there.

“F-floor f-f-fifty. Y-you know w-where,” Rhys stammered out, his breathing labored.

“What’s he talking about, Jack?” Wilhelm asked, and Jack shook his head.

“Rhys? Babe?” Jack tried, although Rhys’ features didn’t seem to register that he was being spoken to.

“F-find her,” his voice came again, a tinge of fear in it now.

“Rhys? Rhysie? Please, you’re not making any sense!” he begged, knowing full well that with Wilhelm’s hacking there was no way that Rhys could hear him.

“L-love y-y-ou,” he said softly, staring for a moment before his eyes rolled back up into his head.

“Rhys!” Jack yelled, his face inches from the projection. “Shit, fuck, dammit!”

He slammed his hand on the desk, causing the objects resting on it to jump with the force.

“Jack!” Nisha shouted, pulling him from his rage. “Jack, I need you to focus.”

“Focus?” Jack said, recoiling from her. “How can I-- How can you expect--”

He let out an angry sigh of exasperation, snatching the object nearest to him and hurling it at the wall. The shattering sound, although satisfying to his ears, did nothing to dull the unadulterated rage and-- was that panic?-- inside him.

“She’s right,” Tim said quietly from behind him, gently placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Rhys was talking to you, giving you a message. He’s smart enough to know that we wouldn’t cut the input to keep tracking him.”

Jack was silently nodding as Tim spoke, the voice identical to his own calming him in a ridiculously narcissistic manner.

“You have to tell us what he meant. It’s the only way we can help him,” Tim continued, trying to silently convey to Nisha and Wilhelm that they should try not to irritate Jack for once in their lives.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Jack asked, although it sounded more defeated than anything. “We-- we haven’t even talked in a week.”

A questioning look formed in Nisha and Wilhelm’s eyes, but they bit their tongues.

“Well, he mentioned a key,” Nisha said. “Do you think he means the vault key?”

Jack looked up at Nisha’s suggestion. “Yeah, maybe. He must’ve overheard that shitlord bandit barking orders at me.”

“You don’t...you don’t think he wants you to make the trade, do you?” Wilhelm asked slowly.

Jack simply scoffed. “He may be in trouble, but he’s not an idiot. Even if there was a vault key to be given-- which, by the way, there isn’t-- handing it over would be like giving up the deed to Hyperion. Hell, it’d be like handing over the powerhouse to rule Helios itself!”

“You do know that some people may value their lives over power, right?” Nisha said.

“If you think Rhys does, then maybe you should spend a bit more time getting to know him,” Jack replied with a smirk. “You could even learn a thing or two about not being a complete asshole all the time.”

“Oi, shut up,” Nisha said, chuckling.

“Ahem,” Wilhelm cleared his throat. “As much as I love to see the two of you bicker, we do have an issue at hand. Those coordinates we found before-- they don’t exist.”

“Excuse me?” Jack asked, stepping to look at the map.

“It’s some sort of protection programming,” Wilhelm explained. “I can keep trying to hack it, but…”

“But we don’t have enough time,” Nisha finished his thought for him. Wilhelm nodded grimly.

“Here’s a map of floor fifty. Does any of this look familiar?”

Jack wanted to shake his head at Wilhelm’s question, but he forced himself to look over the diagram anyways. Rhys’ words echoed in the back of his mind: _you know where._ But did he really? Maybe Rhys was just having some torture-induced delusions.

 _Help me, Rhysie_ , he begged silently, staring at the projection in front of him. He wanted to hold him, kiss him, tell him that everything would be alright. He wanted to apologize for being a dick, for not trusting him, for following him to--

“Bingo.”

The other vault hunters looked up. “Excuse me?” Nisha said.

“I said bingo,” Jack replied coolly, standing up straight and cracking his knuckles. “Y’know, the game that old ladies play? The one that’s also what you say when you figure something out; like, bingo, I realized what my boyfriend’s talking about now?”

The looks on his friends’ faces were more than enough evidence to Jack that his rapid fire speech was making zero sense, but he didn’t care. He pushed Wilhelm aside before whipping out his own ECHOcomm, scrolling through the various screens before he projected a set of coordinates onto the larger map.

“Floor fifty,” he said smugly, pointing at where the coordinates appeared on the map.

His smirk faltered when he remembered what Rhys had said next.

“We have to find Rhys’ friend Sasha,” he said, swallowing bile at the mention of her name. “That’s what he meant when he said ‘find her.’”

“Wait, but isn’t--”

“Not right now, Tim Tams,” Jack said, cutting him off. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be meeting Rhys’ ex, but if that would help to save Rhys, then he could get through it. And while he was at it, he really didn’t need to be reminded of the accusations that had landed them in this mess in the first place.

“Wilhelm, keep working on tracking his location. Tim, I need you to stay and send me updates on Wilhelm’s progress and Rhys’...condition,” he said, the last word feeling heavy on his tongue. “Nisha, you’re coming with me as backup. Rhys might trust this bitch, but I don’t.”

Nisha snorted. “Whatever you say, Jackie.”

“Alright then,” Jack said, reattaching his pistol to his thigh and grabbing his ECHOcomm. “Let’s get this party started.”


	5. Pretty Boy Gets Smart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vasquez fucks Rhys the hell up. Feel bad for the beanpole.
> 
> Warning for mentions of alcoholism.

Rhys’ plan had worked. At least, he hoped it had. If it didn’t, then he’d managed to get himself into even deeper shit than he’d started in.

He’d come up with the idea after his arm had been so unceremoniously ripped off. He knew he’d blacked out for a bit from the pain, but he returned to consciousness way sooner than he would’ve liked to at the feeling of someone’s fingernails biting into the bloodied flesh of his right shoulder.

“Did I _say_ you could pass out on me?”

“No,” Rhys said coolly, looking lazily into Vasquez’s eyes. “Although I have to say, for someone with such ‘advanced’ knowledge about cybernetics, you sure as hell don’t know how to take them off properly.”

Rhys could see Vasquez’s scowl deepen at the air quotes his remaining hand made around the word “advanced,” and he wasn’t exactly surprised when Vasquez’s fist slammed into his gut.

That didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch.

Vasquez laughed at Rhys’ hiss of pain, pacing before him as the Loader Bot continued to hold Rhys in place.

“If you have an ounce of a brain in you, you’ll know that if you cooperate, you won’t get hurt,” Vasquez said in a matter-of-fact tone, almost as if he was giving a work presentation.

Rhys couldn’t help but snort; who did this lunatic think he was? His expertise may have been in programming rather than business, but even he knew that Vasquez wouldn’t be likely to hold up his end of the deal once he got what he wanted. Besides, if the bruises on his body were any indication, Vasquez was just as addicted to violence as Jack was.

 _Jack._ Shit, Jack probably still didn’t know he was gone. It wasn’t like he expected him to care; the fight they’d had last week was pretty nasty, to say the least. He still vividly remembered the sneer on Jack’s face when he’d come home to the penthouse, the accusations that had been hurled at him, the tone of voice with which he’d been yelled at that he’d only previously heard Jack use on employees he was about to murder. He couldn’t even forget the look of hurt in Jack’s eyes as he’d gathered his things and slammed the door to their-- to Jack’s-- penthouse in Jack’s face before stalking out into the night.

He’d crashed at Vaughn’s for a few nights, refusing to talk about the fight despite his bro’s pestering. He found himself raiding Vaughn's liquor cabinets, drinking them dry in a way he hadn’t done since before he’d met Jack.

That thought alone spurred him to down another bottle.

Since he didn’t want to be such a complete burden on Vaughn (and Vaughn’s wallet), he’d left to visit August’s bar to get even more smashed on his own paycheck. That was the last thing he remembered, although he had a nagging feeling that he’d done something he should be regretting.

Rhys was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of an ECHOcomm ringing. He froze in place, glancing around wildly before quickly closing his eyes. But it was too late: Vasquez had already seen the unnaturally bright glow of Rhys’ ECHOeye. For all the shit that Rhys gave him, Vasquez wasn’t completely stupid. He knew that Rhys could communicate with the eye. He also knew that Rhys could be tracked by it.

“Tsk tsk, Rhysie,” Vasquez said, taking Rhys’ face between his thumb and forefinger as the other man shuddered. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“You’re not my frie--” Rhys started to retort before Vasquez’s beefy fingers were prying his eyelid open, staring at the robotic iris with predatory fascination.

“Oh, but anyone who helps me take down the one and only Handsome Jack is a friend of mine,” Vasquez cooed, reaching into his breast pocket with his other hand and removing a piece of metal that looked nauseatingly like a scalpel. “Now tell me Rhys: who just called you?”

Rhys bit his lip. He’d seen Jack’s name flash across his eyelid as he’d closed it, but he couldn’t tell Vasquez that. “It was just a random number,” Rhys lied quickly, still trying to close his eye despite Vasquez keeping it open. “Probably a telemarketer.”

“That’s cute,” Vasquez said with a glare. “That’s real cute. Redial that number for me.”

Rhys shook his head in protest but stopped when he felt the blade touch the surface of his now-watering eye.

“I _said_ ,” he growled, pressing down hard enough for Rhys’ vision to begin to cloud with blood and pain. “Redial that fucking number.”

Rhys didn’t think, couldn’t think, blindly doing as he was told in a last-ditch effort to make the pain stop. He sighed as the pressure subsided, relief flooding his chest as the ringing continued until-- until Jack picked up the phone.

“Hello?” came Jack’s voice, sounding unsure and suspicious. Shit, Rhys didn’t think he’d actually answer; he’d assumed the first call had been nothing more than a buttdial. There’s no way Jack actually wanted to talk to him after the shit he’d said.

“Is this Handsome Jack?” Vasquez asked in a sickly sweet voice, his hand clamping over Rhys’ mouth to prevent him from speaking.

“Who’s asking?” Jack responded sharply, knowing that it wasn’t Rhys on the other end.

“Unimportant,” Vasquez said, at which Rhys wanted to scream at Jack that he was here, that he needed help, that he was sorry for whatever he’d done to mess things up so badly.

“Listen, I don’t know how you got this phone, but I need to talk to its owner,” Jack snapped, and Rhys felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe Jack would come for him after all.

“Sure thing,” Vasquez said, releasing his hand from Rhys’ lips.

“J-Jack,” Rhys stammered, his voice weaker than he’d intended.

“Rhysie? What’s going on?” Jack asked, concern evident in his voice. “Where are y--”

Rhys’ vision went black for a moment as the blade suddenly sunk into his eye, slicing around the robotic lens and drawing blood from the soft tissue beneath it. He heard himself scream, but it sounded too far away to even be real.

“Don’t you touch him!” Jack’s voice snapped him back to reality, the protective tone slightly soothing Rhys despite the throbbing in his eye.

“If you do as I say, I won’t have to,” Vasquez chuckled before proceeding to rip the ECHOeye out with the flat side of the scalpel.

The call disconnected as the wiring between the lens, his brain and his port was snapped with a sickening tug. He felt the need to vomit, but before he was able to, the burning pain of the wiring being dragged out of his pupil turned his world into blissful darkness.

* * *

When he returned to consciousness, he was alone. He was beaten, bloodied and bruised, yes, but he was alone, which meant that he could come up with a plan without any new pain jumbling his thoughts.

He knew that Vasquez would probably finish him off once Jack wired over any top-secret information (if he even agreed to do so in the first place), and without his ECHOeye, he couldn’t exactly tell anyone his location or signal for outside help. Somehow, he’d have to convince Vasquez that Jack needed to come see him in person; it was the only way he’d make it out of this alive, and dammit he wasn’t about to die in a nasty room wearing obnoxious yellow boxers.

So he decided to do the one thing he knew best (and no, that thing wasn’t making terrible jokes that only he laughed at). He was going to con his way out of this, Pandoran style. Good thing one of the best con artists he knew happened to be on Helios with him.

* * *

“A vault key, eh?”

Rhys nodded, his eyes-- now eye-- blown wide in feigned fear. He knew Vasquez’s type: greedy, overconfident and power-hungry. He also knew exactly how to play him.

“He t-told me it was a s-secret,” Rhys stuttered, forcing his lip to tremble. “H-he f-found it o-on Eden-5.”

Vasquez nodded, feeding off of Rhys’ apparent nervous energy.

“I-I wasn’t going to t-tell you, b-but I’m j-just,” Rhys gulped, smiling inwardly at the way Vasquez was eating this shit up. “I-I’m s-so scared.”

“I always knew you were a weakling,” Vasquez said, looming over Rhys and looking way too pleased with himself. “Don’t worry, once I get my hands on that key, this will all be over.”

Rhys had to bite his tongue from shooting back a snarky remark.

“Now, why don’t you just relax while I go set up for the show.”

Before Rhys could even ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Vasquez was removing a miniature video recorder from his pocket and attaching it to the metal “shoulder” of the Loader Bot holding Rhys, who was getting sore from being held this uncomfortable position for so long.

“You see, I’ve set up a little game for Jack,” Vasquez said; the guy really did like this sound of his own voice. “Left him a little bread crumb trail, if you will.”

Rhys cocked his head in confusion, letting out a grunt of pain as it put stress on his bloodied neural port.

“Here’s how the game is going to go.”

Vasquez turned around for a moment, and just as Rhys was about to question him, he felt a sharp pain split across his chest. When he glanced down, he could see red streaks snaking over his tattoos, a sparking whip in Vasquez’s fist.

“First, I placed your eye and hand out for Jackie to find.” Crack. “And once he tracks them down-- which I know he will-- what do you think he’ll see?” Another crack.

Rhys clenched his teeth, determined not to give Vasquez any satisfaction despite the agonizing electric burns lacerating his body. The guy was literally giving him all of the information he needed, and he couldn’t let his screaming drown out this free gift.

“His poor little Rhysie needing to be rescued, courtesy of this camera.”

 _Ah_ , Rhys thought to himself as he stilled against another crack of the whip. _Now it makes sense._

“But don’t worry,” Vasquez said, his lips curling into a nauseating smile. “I wouldn’t let you miss out on the fun. I tricked out this nifty little camera to work two ways.”

Rhys raised his eyebrows in surprise at the holographic image of a darkened corridor materialized over his head. Could it really be that easy? All he had to do was lure Jack over and tell him to get Sasha’s help, and then he’d be home free.

“Alright kid, time to get back to work.”

Rhys barely had time to prepare himself for the pain before Vasquez struck him again, and he sucked in his breath as tears welled in his functional eye. The tendrils of electricity felt like fire raging across his skin, which was already sensitive to begin with.

“S-stop!” Rhys cried out, tears streaming down his cheek now.

He thought he heard a voice calling his name. A voice that sounded very much like Jack’s.

“He’s not going to come,” Rhys said with renewed effort, slipping easily into the “scorned boyfriend” character if only to throw Vasquez off his plan. “You’re wasting your time.”

“How cute of you to think that. You underestimate his possessiveness over his playthings,” said Vasquez, and Rhys had to resist the urge to to roll his eyes at his obliviousness to the fact that Jack was clearly running towards what used to be his cybernetic arm.

Maybe he did roll his eyes a bit, because the next thing he knew, the whip was cracking down on him with a new intensity, drawing a scream out of him. He clenched his teeth together as he tried to ride out the pain, which was threatening to consume him.

“Rhys!”

Vasquez must’ve finally realized Jack was watching because, with a sadistic grin, he reared back and slammed the whip against Rhys’ bloodied stump of a shoulder. He practically howled, the sensitive broken nerves and the electrically conductive fragments of cybernetics sizzling.

“J-Jack,” he said weakly, hoping that if he could just see Jack’s face it would help him survive the waves of agony still coursing through his body.

It turned out to be a bad idea, because as soon as he saw the mixture of concern and raw anger in Jack’s eyes, the entire situation began to feel all too real.

“Can you hear me babe?”

Rhys quickly nodded, preparing to tell him to talk to Sasha before Vasquez struck him again. He didn’t want to cry out, didn’t want Jack to see him hurt like this, but he couldn’t help it-- the continuous pain was too much.

“I’m coming to get you princess, don’t worry.” Rhys shakily smiled at that before his features molded back into a grimace. “I just need to know where you are. Can you tell me where you are, pumpkin?”

He opened his mouth to tell him to talk to Sasha, to make the fake key, to trick Vasquez and for the love of god to get him out of here.

Vasquez’s sweaty hand over his mouth stopped that plan right in its track. “See, Rhysie? I told you he’d come for you.”

Through his half-lidded eye, Rhys could see Jack’s entire body tense with rage at the stolen nickname. “Listen here, jackass, you’re going to tell me where you are right now and maybe, just maybe, I won’t rip all of your limbs off before I toss you out an airlock.”

Rhys saw Vasquez shift the camera in his peripheral vision before the man spoke again. “Oh, I’ll tell you where I am, Jack. I just need you to do me a little favor first. And if you don’t, well,” Rhys felt the sharp grip of the Loader Bot on his left wrist tighten until there was an unholy cracking noise and pain, oh god there was pain. “I guess I’ll just have to spend some more quality time with your boy toy.”

In his dazed state of consciousness, Rhys could faintly make out Vasquez ordering Jack to hand over the vault key in exchange for Rhys’ life. He’d meant to wink at Jack at some point to hint that he should play along, but he ended up just passing out for a moment until Vasquez’s hand slammed into his face.

He spluttered, the coagulated blood in his nose beginning to flow again. He could see Jack’s worried expression, and he ached to comfort him. He knew he must look like shit, but it didn’t matter, not when Jack looked so distraught. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to whisper, although it turned into an unintelligible sigh.

“Don’t worry, Rhysie,” Jack said lowly, the image’s shaky quality telling Rhys that he was probably running. “I’m coming for you, I’ve got you.”

Rhys gave him a small smile to show that he heard him, and Jack’s features softened. Unfortunately, Vasquez heard him too.

“Aw, now isn’t that adorable.”

Rhys glared at his honestly disgusting voice, shivering in a hybrid state of fear and anger. He glanced over to see Jack’s expression, but was met with the sight of...Wilhelm? The man put his finger to his lips before shooting Rhys a grin. Jack must’ve made it home and had Wilhelm working on the arm. Good.

“What?” Rhys said, determined to keep Vasquez’s attention off of Wilhelm. “Never seen a real relationship before?”

Vasquez growled, and Rhys continued speaking, giving Wilhelm the time he needed to disable the other side of the camera so that he could work without fear of being seen by Vasquez.

“Oh wait, of course you haven’t,” Rhys said with a snort. “I mean, look at you.”

The other man leaned in closer, leering at Rhys as his fingers slowly wrapped themselves around his throat.

“Listen here, you _slut_ ,” he said lowly, his fingers tightening at the last word.

Rhys spluttered, panic rising not at the threat of asphyxiation but at Jack’s angry features suddenly filling the screen. No. Not yet.

“Just because I’m not forever alone doesn’t make me a slut,” Rhys joked lightly, although he immediately regretted it due to his current lack of air. He just needed to stall for a few more minutes.

“That’s cute, Rhysie,” he said, the last word overflowing with venom. “You think that just because he lets you suck his dick he cares about you.”

Rhys recoiled slightly at the words but didn’t rise to the bait, quelling the insecurities stirring inside him. He kept his features neutral, continuing to stare at Vasquez despite the fuzzy quality that the edges of his vision was taking on.

“Come on, Hugo,” Rhys said softly, smirking. “It’s not my fault I’m the only one here getting laid.”

Vasquez’s features hardened, and Rhys’ composed facade faltered momentarily. His hands released their viselike grip around Rhys’ now-bruising neck, and he barely had time to gasp in air before a fist was slamming against his cheek.

“You little _shit!_ ” Vasquez said, rearing back to hit him again. “You are nothing. _Nothing_ , do you hear me?”

Rhys whimpered, both at the pain and the sight of Jack’s projected figure looking like he was about to tell Vasquez off right then and there.

He spat, a bit of blood staining Vasquez’s shirt, drawing his captor’s attention away from the one thing that would blow this entire operation. “I feel like some people would disagree.”

Vasquez leaned back and laughed, a full-bodied wheeze to the extent where you’d think Rhys had just told the funniest joke in the entire damn world. Rhys was grateful for the sound, however, since both Nisha and Tim were working to actively restrain Jack and drag him from the room.

“That’s just rich, kid. Fucking hilarious. How far do I need to dumb it down for your teeny tiny Pandoran brain to comprehend?”

Rhys caught Wilhelm’s eye in the camera, silently alerting him that the hacking was done. Although every fiber of his being screamed at him not to, not to let this one beacon of hope disappear, he knew what had to be done. He nodded slightly, and the feed went blank and staticky, although Vasquez didn’t seem to notice.

“You. Are. A. Body,” Vasquez shouted, each word accentuated by a blow to his face, his chest, his remaining arm. “The only reason you’re on this fucking station is because corporates like something feisty to spice their nights up.”

Rhys sobbed again, his deep-seeded insecurities deciding it was the perfect fucking moment to rear their ugly heads. That and the fact that he was pretty sure every inch of his body had been beaten beyond recognition.

“And Jack? You think you’ve got him hooked, don’t you?” Rhys remained silent, trembling and praying that Jack wasn’t seeing this, that they’d managed to keep him out of the room so that he wouldn’t see Rhys completely fall apart.

“Let’s see how long he lets you stick around after I’m done breaking your pretty little figure. Which, if he doesn’t get me this damn vault key pronto, will be much sooner than later.”

Another punch jostling Rhys’ already messed up neural port, and he fell back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Rhys awoke to the discomforting sound of silence. Vasquez must’ve left the room for some reason or another, leaving Rhys to be tortured by his own thoughts, which were just about as unbearable. He cracked his eye open further, scanning the room for any sign of his captor, feeling the prickly sensation of someone watching him. When his sight landed on the small camera, he remembered that someone actually was.

He cleared his throat, which protested in dry pain, but Rhys forced himself to speak, knowing this was his chance. “T-the key.”

He didn’t know if anyone would hear him, but he had an inexplicable feeling that Jack was watching, that it was really him on the other side.

“F-floor f-f-fifty. Y-you know w-where,” he choked out, speaking turning out to be way harder than he’d thought it would be. He must’ve really fucked up his vocal cords with all that screaming. Besides, he couldn’t exactly go into great detail; who knew where Vasquez was lurking.

“F-find her,” he said quickly, hearing footsteps approaching. He hoped that Jack would understand his message, that he’d talk to Sasha and not end up killing her. He hoped that when this was all over, Jack wouldn’t cast him aside. He tried to convey all of this in his last two words, a stammer before the fight evaporated in him and he slipped from awareness.

“L-love y-y-ou.”

He wished he could be sure that Jack loved him too.


	6. Enter: Con Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interactions between Jack and Sasha give me life tbh

Jack had never met Sasha before, but he already knew he hated her. He’d only seen her in one of Rhys’ old photos that he took out when he was feeling nostalgic, although Jack knew that he kept it in the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed.

Sometimes, when Rhys wasn’t home, Jack would carefully take it out and look at it. Although he’d never say it to Rhys, he loved the goofy smile that he wore on his face in the photograph. It was the same one he wore whenever Jack cracked a stupid joke or said he loved him, but it looked different on his younger features. He had to have been no older than 17 when the photo was taken, sprawled out on a couch with his friends. One of them, a girl in a weird hat whose paleness nearly rivaled Rhys’, had her arms folded in mock annoyance. The blonde next to her, whom Jack recognized as Athena’s girlfriend Janey, was cracking a wide grin that showed off her braces. A Hispanic-looking kid could be seen lurking in the background, a bandana holding his ponytailed hair from his face and thick goggles hanging around his neck. He appeared to be laughing at what someone had said off camera. Jack wished he could ask Rhys what had been so funny-- he knew that Rhys still remembered-- but Rhys wasn’t particularly fond of talking about his life on Pandora, and Jack didn’t want to push him.

And then there was Sasha, whose mere presence pissed him off. She was on the couch next to Rhys, snuggled against his side. He had his right arm wrapped around her shoulders-- his real arm, not the cybernetic one he had now-- and Jack felt a twinge of jealousy. When was the last time Rhys had held him like that? He ached to be near him, to lean against his chest, to breathe in the sweet smell of his skin. After the fight, it was like he’d forgotten how to live on his own. He made a mental note to work in some extra cuddle time when this whole ordeal was over. But first, he thought grimly to himself, he needed Sasha’s help.

“Is this the place?” Nisha asked, nodding in the direction of the closed apartment door in front of them. Jack nodded, checking one last time that the coordinates matched up before slamming his fist against the door.

“Open up, sweet cheeks! There’s a fucking emergency!” he shouted, ignoring Nisha’s quite obvious eye roll.

After a moment, the door cracked open a little, and Jack could see a bright green eye staring at him from within the darkened interior. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Handsome goddamn Jack, pumpkin,” he said as he threw his weight against the door, forcing it to open and knocking Sasha backwards in the process.

“What the fuck?” Sasha yelled, reaching towards her ankle to grab her pistol and force these lunatics out of her apartment.

She hadn’t even managed to get the safety off before she felt a gun press against the back of her skull, the unmistakable sound of a bullet clicking into the chamber causing her to drop her weapon and slowly raise her hands in surrender.

“Alright, you win,” she snapped.

Jack signaled to Nisha, who’d managed to slip through the door behind Jack unbeknownst to Sasha. She pouted at Jack before lowering her weapon.

“So then, now that you’ve broken into my apartment, what do you want from me?” Sasha asked, eyeing Jack and Nisha suspiciously.

“We want…” Jack faltered, unsure of what to say. “We want your help.”

Sasha snorted. “With what?”

Jack remained silent, beginning to fidget. There was a piece to this puzzle Rhys had created that he couldn’t see, but he wasn’t exactly the type to ask for help.

“There’s been a kidnapping,” Nisha said finally, shrugging at Jack’s immediate glare. “What? We don’t have enough time for you to swallow your entire ego.”

Jack continued to glower, but Sasha cut in. “I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with me?”

“Listen, honey, I wish you weren’t involved, I really do,” Jack said, stepping closer to Sasha to make his height advantage clear. “But unfortunately, Rhys wanted his Pandoran trash whore involved in this little operation.”

Sasha’s hand came down across Jack’s face with a sharp crack before he could even react, grinding his mask against his always-sensitive scar. “What the _fuck_ did you just say to me?”

Jack snarled, recoiling. “You think I don’t know about you and Rhys? About you putting your filthy hands all over _my_ boyfriend?”

There was a murderous glint in Sasha’s eyes as she responded. “I always knew you were dense, but I never thought you’d be such an idiot.”

She walked closer to Jack, jabbing her finger against his chest. “If you think you can bust in here asking for my help then accuse me of messing around with my _ex_ , then you need to get to get your head checked.”

Nisha placed her hands on Jack’s shoulders and slowly dragged him backwards before he actually started getting violent. “I’m sorry Sasha, Jackie here just gets a little… overprotective.”

Jack still looked like he wanted to strangle her, but at least he hadn’t pulled out his gun. The rational part of him (as small as it was) knew that Rhys was as good as dead if he killed her, but oh, what he wouldn’t give to wrap his fingers around her throat.

“Why don’t you go take a seat and let us gals chat,” Nisha said, herding Jack over to the armchair in the corner of the apartment. He didn’t reply, pressing his lips into a thin line. He sunk into the seat, thrumming his fingers against the armrest. His eyes were dark and unfocused, the image of Rhys’ bloodied face imprinted in his pupils as his tortured screams filled his ears.

“How can you stand that asshole?” Sasha said to Nisha as she stepped into the kitchenette. She wrinkled her nose. “How can _Rhys_ stand him?”

Nisha shrugged, leaning against the countertop. “He’s not always that bad.” She paused, thinking. “Actually, yes he is. He’s just not this aggressive to people he doesn’t consider his enemies.”

“And what did I do to earn a spot on his hit list?” Sasha asked, filling a chipped purple mug with hot water before plopping a tea bag into it.

Nisha stared at her, her face growing serious. “He’s convinced himself that Rhys cheated on him with you.”

Sasha looked ready to interrupt and argue but Nisha quickly continued. “I know you didn’t, so no need trying to convince me. Unlike Jack, I can see past my own nose.”

Sasha chuckled at that, beginning to relax as she took a sip of her tea.

“Jackie, he just… he’s in deep. He loves that kid more than Hyperion itself, although he’d never admit it. And now that he might lose him, he’s blaming anyone he can so that he doesn’t have to take it all out on himself. Although,” she said, shooting a worried look in Jack’s direction. “I don’t think it’s working all that well.”

Sasha took another sip, considering. “So you both came all the way out here so he could use me as a punching bag?”

“God no,” came an obnoxiously cocky voice. “I’ve got an entire team of slackers in R & D I could yell at and airlock if I wanted to.”

The girls stared at Jack as he stepped into the room, his mask readjusted on his face and his features composed. “We really do need your help, pumpkin. And we’re in a bit of a time crunch.”

Jack launched into a quick rundown of the past 24 hours, impressively managing to keep his anger to a semi-normal level. “So, basically, he sent us here to find you,” he concluded.

Sasha’s face had paled, her fingers tightly clutching the mug.

“Do you know what he meant? About the vault key?” Nisha asked.

Sasha nodded, something dark and unreadable in her expression. “He wants us to create a fake. That way they’ll give us his location and we can make the trade.”

Jack gaped at her. “As much as I’d love for that to work, that son of a taint would see right through it, and _none_ of us would be seeing a very happy ending.”

Sasha bit her lip before shaking her head. “I’ve done it before.”

Jack raised his eyebrows before letting out a low whistle. “Seriously?”

Sasha set her mug down onto the counter before walking over to the nearby closet, the other two trailing behind her. “It was one of the last cons Rhys helped me pull off before he came up to Helios, that’s how he knows it’ll work,” she explained as she began to rummage through the stacks of cardboard boxes inside.

“Hold up,” Jack said, folding his arms over his chest. “Cons?”

Sasha nodded as she found the box she was looking for, hoisting it up with a grunt and carrying it to the kitchen table. “Your boyfriend wasn’t always a goody-two-shoes programmer,” she said as she removed the box’s lid and dumped out its contents unceremoniously.

“I wouldn’t exactly say he’s a goody-two-shoes,” Jack said with a smirk, wagging his eyebrows.

Nisha socked him in the shoulder. “You’re disgusting.”

The nauseous looks on both her and Sasha’s faces caused him to laugh, the first time he’d done so in what felt like forever; at least, since the forever after he’d fought with Rhys.

“So you’ll help?” he asked.

Sasha nodded. “But I’m doing it for Rhys, not you. No offense, but you’re still an asshole.”

Jack shrugged. “None taken.”

“Then let’s get to work!” Nisha said, clapping her hands together before lifting up the lump of molding clay now laying on the table. “I’ll make the base and you do the decorating?”

“Sure,” Sasha replied, pulling out brushes, a few bottles of shiny-looking paints and a...flamethrower?

“What about him?” she asked, jerking her thumb towards Jack.

“I’m gonna call Tim Tams for a status update,” he said, sliding his ECHOcomm out from his jacket pocket. “Besides, you don’t want me messing around with all this arts and crafts shit. Rhys forced me to take a painting class with him once and I almost burned the room down.”

“Alright then,” Sasha said, readjusting her headband to keep her dreadlocks out of her face. “You can talk in my room for some privacy. Plus, I don’t need your annoying voice distracting me.”

Jack nodded, although a bit of his previous anger resurfaced as he glanced towards the bedroom. He grit his teeth to keep himself from making a snide comment, not wanting to break their still precarious truce. He fumbled to select Tim’s name from his contact list, pressing down just a bit too hard on the screen as he headed into the other room.

Sasha must’ve noticed, because she called his name, causing him to look at her over his shoulder. “I didn’t mess around with Rhys.” When Jack didn’t respond, she continued with a grin. “Besides, he always was lousy in bed.”

Jack cracked a slight smile at that. “Oh, honey, I’d beg to differ.”

He turned to slip into Sasha’s bedroom completely, closing the door behind him and leaving the two girls in the kitchen to continue with their work. He felt extremely uncomfortable, not just because he was in a stranger’s most private room, but also because a part of him still imagined Rhys tangled in the plain linen sheets. Even though Sasha had flat-out denied it, a part of Jack continued to feel ill at the image of someone other than himself seeing Rhys in such an intimate way.

“Hey Tim,” Jack said as a projection of his doppelganger’s face materialized from his phone.

Tim gave a small salute before rolling right into a status report. “Wilhelm was able to get a reading on the guy who nabbed Rhys. I’m sending you the info now.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at the file he’d just received, quickly opening it. “Hugo Vasquez, eh?”

Tim nodded. “Head of prototype designs.”

“He even looks like a douche,” Jack said, scowling. “Do you see that ridiculous combover?”

“I’m having Wilhelm try to get a read on his location,” Tim said, abstaining from Jack’s rude humor as usual. “He’d also looking into his computer files.”

Jack nodded, already planning out the precise way in which he’d kill him. After weeks of torturing, of course. He deserved no less after what he’d done to…

“How’s Rhys?” Jack asked, immediately feeling his heart stop at the nervous look on Tim’s face.

“Tim,” he repeated, his expression darkening. “How’s Rhys?”

“He’s, um, well,” Tim stammered, focusing most of his attention on avoiding eye contact. “You see, he’s--”

“Please!”

Tim froze at the sound, quickly turning to look over his shoulder.

“Please don’t! Please! I’ll do anything!”

Jack’s pulse quickened as he took in the sounds of Rhys’ pained cries. “Let me see him.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, but decided he valued his life a little too much and carried the ECHOcomm over to the arm. Wilhelm was nowhere to be seen, having determined that hunting this Vasquez character would be much easier via his personal computer files rather than the crazy hacking maze he’d set up. Instead, a large projection of Rhys was the only thing Jack could see, and he immediately felt sick.

“They didn’t mean to! I swear, they didn’t mean to!” Jack watched Rhys shout. “I’ll finish the job, I’ll finish hundreds of jobs if you just stop hurting them!”

Rhys was struggling against his bonds, his single hazel eye blown wide and pupil dilated. There were tears staining his cheek, although they were barely visible amidst the dried blood.

“Who’s he talking about?” Jack hissed at Tim, his eyes still glued to Rhys’ face.

Tim shrugged, looking helpless. “I don’t know. There’s-- there’s nobody in the room with him, Jack. That Vasquez guy hasn’t been here in hours.”

“M-mom!” Rhys shouted, his voice hitching as more tears fell. “No! You bitch! H-how c-c-could y-” he broke off into sobs again.

Jack stared forward, his features unmoving. “Is he asleep?” he asked finally.

Tim shook his head. “No, he’s been up for about an hour. At first he was just repeating the stuff about Sasha and the key, but now…” The confused, helpless look on his face spoke for itself. “Why do you ask?”

“He, um,” Jack said as he began to fidget with the corners of his mask. “He sometimes has these nightmares, wakes up yelling and all that jazz, and it just, well, it sounds a helluva lot like this.”

Tim seemed to think for a moment before suddenly disappearing from the corner of the screen, the sound of furious typing filling the speakers. Jack waited, raising his eyebrows.

“Y-you liar! You said if I did it you’d l-let them g-go, you promised. You pr-promised!”

Jack chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to comfort Rhys, to hold and soothe him like he did whenever Rhys woke up crying in the middle of the night. He’d never gotten any real information from Rhys about them, but he had enough of a brain to know that they had something to do with Pandora, something to do with the portion of Rhys’ life that he kept buried from everyone, even from Jack.

“I got it!” Tim said triumphantly, appearing back in front of the camera with a very familiar grin. “It’s some sort of synthetic eridium-based drug, basically a hallucinogen.”

Jack didn’t respond, the tightness in his chest worsening.

“It says here that it’s super hard to find, even on the black market,” Tim continued, reading off the database screen. “The only known mass underground producer was Atlas, and we all know what happened to them.”

Jack quickly nodded, already tuning Tim’s voice out as his hearing honed in on Rhys’ cries. _I’m coming for you, babe_ , he thought as he felt something wet forming in his eyes (which was actually impossible, since Handsome Jack _never_ cried; he didn’t even know if he had tear ducts). _Don’t you worry._


	7. A Tragic Backstory to End All Tragic Backstories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha tells Jack about Rhys' less-than-perfect childhood on Pandora
> 
> Warnings for: alcoholism and mention of suicide

Jack looked up at a sharp knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, clearing his throat and ending the call with Tim. The door creaked open and Sasha appeared, a smug look on her face and an accidental smear of purple sparkles on her cheek. “The key’s done. The paint’s drying now, but in a few hours it should be ready to go.”

“We don’t have a few hours,” Jack said harshly.

Sasha placed her hand on her hip, raising her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Are you deaf?” Jack snapped, Rhys’ pained expression on the forefront of his mind. “We don’t have time to literally watch paint dry.”

“And here I thought we were pretending not to hate each other,” Sasha replied sourly. “You asked me to make the key and that’s what I’m doing. If I say the paint needs time to dry, the paint needs time to dry.”

“He can’t wait that long!” Jack said before realizing his slip-up. “I mean, _we_ can’t wait that long.”

Sasha simply stared at him, studying the way his fists were clenched and his gaze was anxiously darting towards his ECHOcomm, now resting on the bed. She could also see his eyes were rimmed in red. “What’s going on, Jack? What’s wrong with Rhys?”

Jack didn’t respond for a moment, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. “Can I--can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure?” Sasha said, confused and a bit annoyed that he hadn’t answered her question.

“What happened on Pandora? To Rhys, I mean,” he clarified.

Sasha stared at him, biting her lip. “He didn’t tell you?”

Jack shook his head, his expression slightly hurt.

“I don’t really know if it’s my place…” Sasha said, trailing off.

“Please,” Jack said quickly. “I need to know. I need to know how to help him.”

Sasha could see the desperation written all over his face, his concern clearly genuine. “Okay,” she said finally, and Jack’s relief was instantaneous. “I don’t know everything, but I’ll tell you what I do. You’re, um, probably gonna want to sit down for this.”

Jack grimaced before sinking onto Sasha’s bed, not even bothering to argue. He crossed his arms over his chest, the shield he always wore attached to his hip shifting as he fidgeted.

“I’ve known Rhys since high school back in New Haven. It was a shithole, yeah, where on Pandora wasn’t? Besides, it was relatively safer than a lot of places.” Jack nodded, listening intently. “His family didn’t have a lot of money, and that’s saying something, because New Haven is known for being dirt poor. He was smart, though. Too smart for his own good. For all the time he spent with his nose in a textbook, he couldn’t see what was happening right in front of him.”

Jack’s mask kept his expression falsely neutral, and Sasha’s stomach churned at her inability to figure out what he was thinking.

“We started dating when we were seventeen,” she continued, trying to rush through any mention of their relationship so Jack wouldn’t go off again. “Things were pretty normal back then. We went to school, spent time with friends, snuck into clubs--kid stuff, y’know?”

Jack nodded mechanically, although “kid stuff” had never been a part of his life story--his grandmother had made sure of that.

“He never talked about his family, and I never asked. I didn’t think about it. God, I wish I’d thought to ask,” Sasha said, swallowing thickly. “But by the time I found out it was too late. The... damage had already been done.”

She paused to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye; it had been a long time since she’d thought about this shit, much less talked about it. But if Jack could help Rhys deal with what had happened in a way that didn’t involve getting blackout drunk, then the least she could do was talk. Plus, maybe it’d distract him long enough for the key to finish drying.

“His parents worked for a bandit leader named Vallory. I’d heard horror stories about her, but most of us considered her to be no more than an urban myth. Yeah, most people in New Haven were sketchy--Hell my dad raised me and my sister to be con artists-- but the shit Vallory did was on a whole other level.

“Rhys’ family had no money, but they wanted him to get an education, to get off that god-awful planet, so they struck up a deal. I’m not sure if he even knew at first, but once he found out, he blamed himself and he... he just wasn’t the same after that.”

Jack’s blue and green eyes were still trained on Sasha’s face. “Is that when he started drinking?”

Sasha looked a bit taken aback at Jack’s forwardness. “He... told you about that?”

Jack shook his head, chuckling. “Honey, I first met Rhys drunk out of his mind at a bar. Then I met him a second time there. And a third. Kid was a goddamn sponge.”

Sasha scowled slightly at the thought of that.

“Rhys and I were still dating at the time, for almost a year actually, but it didn’t feel like it,” she said, pausing to look at Jack and wondering if she should just skip over this part of the story. When he didn’t look like he was about to burst into flames of jealousy, she cleared her throat and continued.

“He stopped spending nights at my place, wouldn’t return my texts or calls. He still worked with me and Fiona on cons sometimes, but it wasn’t the same; he was there as an obligation, not because he wanted to be. I’d try talking to him, but,” she paused, trying to reign her emotions back under control.

“But he’s a stubborn asshole when he wants to be,” Jack supplied, earning a snort of agreement from Sasha.

“I don’t know everything that went on at that time,” Sasha admitted, sitting down softly onto the bed next to Jack. “I didn’t even know how bad it was at first.”

Jack’s ears perked up at that, and a mixture of anger and worry flitted across his face before it was absolved back into a stony neutrality. “What do you mean, ‘how bad it was’?”

Sasha gulped. “Rhys’ parents, they missed a drop. They couldn’t fulfill the contract and, well, Vallory wasn’t happy. She took them as hostages and made Rhys... do things in order to get them back.”

“What sort of things?” Jack growled, his voice low.

“I-I don’t know exactly,” Sasha stammered truthfully. “It was some sick sort of deal; he had to earn her back the money they’d lost, or she’d...” She trailed off, sliding her fingers horizontally across her throat.

Jack got the message. “So he stole some crap for her, and it fucked up his head. Is that what this is all about?”

Sasha regarded him warily, quirking an eyebrow with a pitying look on her face.

“What?” Jack snapped, that ferocity back in his eyes.

“He worked for her for years, Jack. For _years,_ ” she said, shuddering at the way the words tasted in her mouth. “Like I said, he was smart. And she knew that.”

Jack’s fists were clenched at his sides again, knuckles turning white. “Sasha,” he grit out from between his teeth. “What. Did. She. Make. Him. _Do?_ ”

Sasha maneuvered around the question, knowing that no answer she could give would be satisfactory; Hell, she didn’t even know completely what had happened herself. “Rhys started disappearing for days and then coming back absolutely shit-faced. We--our friends and I--were worried about him, especially when he kept avoiding us like the freaking plague. So we went to his apartment to check on him, y’know?”

Jack nodded slowly, although he was clearly still tense.

“We didn’t know anything then, so when we went in there we were half expecting him to be studying for the college classes he was taking or doing some other weird shit like sorting his socks. I even thought he might’ve been cheating on me.”

Jack’s flinch at her last sentence had her speeding to continue, once again aware of why they were in this shitty predicament in the first place.

“But the place was empty. It looked like nobody had been there for weeks, everything covered in dust, cupboards practically bare. We knew his family had no money, but this--this was different. I went into Rhys’ room to see if he’d left a note about where he was or anything, but the place looked like a goddamn crime scene.

“There were bloodstains in the floor, and more empty liquor bottles than the rest of New Haven combined probably went through in a year. I told everyone else to go home, that there was nothing to see. His room was just... private, I guess, and I didn’t want to betray him like that.”

“You still loved him?”

Sasha looked taken aback at Jack’s sudden question, especially by the lack of malice in his voice. “Yeah, I did. I really did.”

Jack nodded slowly at her response before gesturing for her to keep speaking.

“There was this folder on his bed,” she said, her voice even more cautious. “Vallory must have given it to him, because it wasn’t his handwriting, and it sure as hell wasn’t schoolwork.”

“What was in it?” Jack said, restrained anger seeping out from every syllable.

“Files,” she said shortly, struggling to string together the words to describe the impossible. Shit, what had she gotten herself into? “Not like coding or anything. They were profiles on people, bandit leaders and the like. Corporate execs too. I couldn’t read everything-- there was blood all over the fucking place--but there was a lot of, um, personal information on them.”

Jack clenched his jaw. He thought he knew where this was going, but didn’t want to interrupt Sasha.

“Physique, salary, connections, resume, frequent hangouts--it even had their allergies listed! It also,” Sasha paused, steeling herself for Jack’s reaction to what she was about to say next. “It also described what they preferred... sexually.”

Jack let out a hiss of breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding, his jaw muscles tensing despite his effort to calm them. He’d always had his suspicions about Rhys sleeping around, especially after one night of very, very drunken confessions and a subsequent two-day hangover. But enjoying hooking up was one thing; being forced to have sex for some bandit bitch-lord’s power play was very, very different.

Had that been why he’d been so submissive to Jack’s advances? Did he think he had to be? Jack felt his stomach tighten in fear; What if Rhys saw him as just another douche to get on his back for in his climb up the corporate ladder? If what Sasha was insinuating about his essentially forced prostitution was correct, Jack wouldn’t even blame him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sasha said, cutting Jack off from his thoughts, which were quickly turning murderous. “And I don’t know for sure if you’re right. Like I said, Rhys was dead-set against telling me anything.”

Jack had started to fidget, wanting nothing more than to talk to Rhys and beg him to please, please tell him the truth. How much more was Rhys hiding from him?

“Jack,” Sasha said, pulling his attention back to her. “There’s more.”

He shuddered, not sure how this horror story could get any worse and definitely not wanting to find out the manner in which it did.

“Rhys called me one night. It had to’ve been 3 a.m. at least. We hadn’t talked in months at that point, and I’d basically given up on him. Given up on us. We’d mutually broken it off, although nothing official; I mean, we hadn’t been on a date in a year, what else was I supposed to think?” Sasha said, her cohesiveness starting to spiral. “But I--I answered him anyways. I was worried, to say the least. And when he talked to me… something about it wasn’t right.”

Jack was biting his lip to keep from interjecting himself into the conversation, from making a stupid comment to lighten the mood in a completely immature way if only to keep himself from feeling all these dumb… feelings.

“He was slurring his words really badly, and he kept saying he was sorry, over and over again. When he said he was at home, I told him I would meet him there. Something was up, I knew it. I made him promise not to hang up on me, but he just kept apologizing, saying it was all his fault. I don’t think I’ve ever driven that fast in my entire fucking life.”

Even though it was in the past, Jack’s heart was slamming in his chest at Sasha’s words. He’d seen Rhys scared and vulnerable, not to mention drunk as hell, but nothing like what she was describing. Did Rhys not trust him with this kind of shit? He was his _boyfriend_ , for fuck’s sake.

“When I found him, that shit… it was straight from a nightmare,” Sasha said, either ignoring or not registering Jack’s discomfort. “He’d fallen on the floor trying to get in bed, and was waving a half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand. And his right arm, it was just gone. Vanished. Blood everywhere. It reeked, even with the bandages he’d put on it,” she paused, looking like she might throw up. “I asked him what happened, and he just said that she killed them. That was it. Then he puked all over the floor.”

Jack was feeling quite nauseous himself, especially as he thought about Rhys’ cybernetic arm. He’d told Jack that he’d had it surgically removed when he volunteered for the cybernetic program, not that someone had literally blown it off. He swallowed thickly, which was painful with his dry throat.

“I think,” Sasha began, working to quell the trembling in her voice; it was clear she was still emotional about the whole ordeal. “I think Vallory finally killed his parents, and then tried to off him too. It fucked him up, all of it. There--there were pills too, when he threw up. He was passed out so I couldn’t ask, but I think he…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but Jack could easily tell what she was getting at. Rhys, his sweet, confident (albeit sometimes assholeish) boyfriend, was so desperate and distraught that he’d tried to end his life. The thought alone almost made him completely lose his composure. But heroes didn’t cry, he reminded himself sternly. Heroes didn’t cry.

“I cleaned up the floor, bathed him, got him into bed. He woke up sometimes during all that, but he wasn’t making any sense. When he finally curled up in bed, I was pretty damn exhausted myself, practically passed out the second I hit the couch. And when I woke up, he was gone. I haven’t seen him since--at least, not until last week. He must’ve come up to Helios, started a new life for himself. I was happy for him, I really was. Not so happy when I realized that he’s still… dealing with this shit.”

Jack had remained silent during the end of her tale, and stayed quiet for a few minutes after she finished. Nothing made sense, and everything, everything was falling apart.

“Can I, um, have a minute?” he asked, looking slightly desperately at Sasha.

She nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen with Nisha if you need anything.” She looked a bit shaken up herself, but that was nothing some tea (and serious repression) couldn’t fix.

Once he heard the door close behind Sasha, he let her words sink into him again. And damn if it didn’t hurt worse than every fucking bullet he’d taken. _Rhysie_ , he thought to himself. _Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie._

Then, although he’d never admit it to anyone, he buried his face into a pillow and cried.


	8. You Promised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for an in-depth look at what really happened to Rhys on Pandora, including the secrets that he's let eat him alive rather than share with anyone else.
> 
> Warnings for attempted sexual assault.

_“But I did what you asked!” Rhys shouted, tears beginning to stream down his face. “I finished the job!”_

_“I know that, darling,” Vallory said, her raspy voice spreading goosebumps across his skin. “But now that I know what you can do, I’m gonna need you to do it again.”_

_Rhys swallowed, his eyes trailing from Vallory to the bound figures of his parents, whose silhouettes were visible behind the translucent wall divider. The blood staining the glass made him nauseous, and if he’d managed to keep any food down in the past week, he probably would’ve thrown up._

_“You’re a pretty boy,” Vallory cooed, trailing her long, manicured fingernails across his jawline. “With a pretty mouth, and a very pretty body.”_

_Rhys shuddered, his eyes still watery. He’d give anything to not have to be here right now, to not have this psychotic bitch ordering him around. But if he didn’t do what she said...he couldn’t let his parents down, not again._

_“There’s a man by the name of Clayton who’s been stealing weapons from me. I need you to pick him up at the bar, convince him to take you back to his place, and give him what he wants. And then,” she said, pressing a switchblade into his hand. “You’re going to finish the job.”_

_Rhys bit his lip, a small part of him twitching to plunge the knife into Vallory’s gut right then and there. But the image of his parents, bound and with guns to their heads, was still clear and present in his mind. If he could just get them out of this, if he could get them all out of this, then everything would be okay._

_“Okay,” he said quietly, taking the blade. “Where am I meeting him?”_

_“I’ll send the coordinates to your ECHO,” she said, already stalking away. “Oh, and fair warning: Clayton likes to be rough.”_

_Rhys stole one last glance at the forms of his parents before shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders and exiting the caravan. He used a bit of his remaining cash to fast travel back to New Haven, heading directly back to his family’s apartment in the corner of town. He almost tripped over a scythid carcass with how intently he was trying to focus on anything but the situation at hand._

_Sure, he’d done jobs like this before; he was nice to look at and was a damn fine actor, meaning it wasn’t totally out of his realm to give a few folks a quickie for some extra dough on the side. But it was one thing to sell his body when he controlled how and to whom; to have someone making that decision for him was downright terrifying._

_When he reached the apartment (which he’d completely trashed while on an awful bender), he slid into a pair of skinny jeans that hugged his ass just right and a black v-neck that showed off his tattoos to a nearly scandalous degree. He dabbed a bit of concealer over the dark bags under his eyes before applying a copious amount to a hickey marking his neck from his last… job. He mussed up his hair a bit before checking his form over in the mirror, seeing that perfect balance of polished yet completely fuckable that had any and all genders drooling over him._

_He’d read over Clayton's file from Vallory earlier, and he was basically the epitome of a war-hardened, gun-loving narcissist. That was fine, though; Rhys could easily play the submissive role if that’s what it would take._

_He ran over his planned dialogue as he traveled to Sanctuary, practicing his pickup lines as well as his timid facade. He could do this, he knew he could. Another deep breath, and then he pushed open the door to Moxxi’s bar, the location that had been marked on his ECHO. The bar was one of the most popular hookup spots on Pandora, and Rhys had gotten lucky there more times than he’d care to admit, not to mention completely smashed._

_He slid onto a barstool, eyes scanning the bodies around the counter until they landed on Clayton. He looked practically identical to the picture Vallory had given him; Hell, Rhys was pretty sure he was wearing the same freaking camo jacket._

_He called Moxxi over, ordering a shot for himself and a Hot Gazpacho Moxx-tail “for the handsome fellow over there.” He quickly knocked back his drink when it was placed in front of him--there was no way he could do this while sober. He watched as Moxxi gave Clayton the drink which, according to Vallory’s intel, was his favorite. When Moxxi jerked her thumb towards Rhys and Clayton met his gaze, Rhys made sure to wink at him and slowly run his tongue over his teeth. A predatory grin appeared on Clayton's face, and Rhys knew he’d caught him. This was going to be way easier than he’d thought._

_Soon, Clayton was making his way around the counter towards Rhys before putting a firm hand on his shoulder. Rhys had to consciously force himself not to flinch away._

_“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” Clayton cooed, although his voice remained obnoxiously loud._

_Rhys looked back up towards him with nothing short of bedroom eyes. “You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”_

_The compliment went straight to Clayton's already overinflated ego. “What’s your name, baby?” he asked._

_“Rhys,” he replied, showing a sliver of a smile. “But you can call me whatever you’d like.”_

_Clayton licked his lips, looking hungry. “Well then, Rhys,” he said, stepping closer. “Whaddya say you let ol’ Clayton here take care of you for the night?”_

_Rhys forced a meek smile and blush onto his face before nodding and running his hands over Clayton's biceps, trying to keep himself from fidgeting._

_Clayton chuckled. “You know, my arms aren’t the only thing that’s big.”_

_Rhys wanted to gag at the frankly awful innuendo, but forced himself to laugh along. “I think it’s about time we got out of here, don’t you think?” Rhys said, slyly grabbing Clayton's calloused hand._

_Clayton nodded eagerly, slapping some cash on the counter and then speeding up to drag Rhys behind him. Damn, the guy really did have to be dominant all the time. Must be some sort of inferiority complex._

_“Let’s go back to my place,” Clayton said, hand tight around Rhys’. It was very clear that he wasn’t providing an invitation but rather issuing a command. And while Rhys found it quite off-putting, he wasn’t exactly in any position to refuse._

_He nodded, allowing himself to be pulled into an apartment complex a few blocks away. As Clayton slammed the door shut behind them, Rhys couldn’t help but to close his eyes and wait for it all to end._

* * *

_Rhys felt ashamed, violated, and dirty, but not in the sexy way. Vallory was right about Clayton being rough: The man paid virtually no attention to Rhys’ comfort or, God forbid, his pleasure. It had helped to make the last part of his job a bit easier, but his conscience was still far too guilty. There was blood on his hands, both literally and figuratively, and he was still clutching the crimson-stained blade in his fist. Clayton was long dead by now, yet Rhys swore he could still hear the sound of blood gurgling from his slit throat._

_He was eventually able to drop the knife and peel himself out of the sheets, making his way to Clayton's bathroom to get the… stickiness off of him. He stepped into the shower, already naked, and scrubbed his skin raw with bar of soap he found inside. Even after the blood and Clayton's release had gone down the drain, he still didn’t feel clean. He could feel the pressure of Clayton's weight on top of him, smothering him. His chest felt tight, and fuck, had it always been this hard to breathe? He placed his hands against the shower wall to steady himself, feeling very lightheaded all of a sudden. He tried to remind himself to breathe, but his lungs refused to comply._

_He slowly slid down onto the shower floor, hugging his knees into his chest and letting the hot water spray down onto him. He didn’t know how long he sat there in a pathetic attempt to compose himself before finally toweling off and sliding his clothes back on. He put the switchblade into the pocket of his jeans before snapping a picture of his handiwork to Vallory as proof that the job was done, that she could release his parents now._

_He silently left the apartment, making a beeline for the bottle of gin back at home that was calling his name. His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out to see a text from Vallory._

_“That’s a good boy.”_

_Rhys quickly deleted the message, because he certainly didn’t feel like one._

* * *

_Lilith. Roland. Moxxi. The names all started to blur together, the murders he’d had to carry out persistent against the large amount of alcohol he’d tried to drown them in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sober, and he didn’t know if he even cared. He worked for Vallory, and that was it. Nothing else mattered: Not friends, not college, and most definitely not his own personal well-being. He knew his friends still tried to get in touch with him, but he ignored their efforts; he couldn’t drag them down with him, especially not Sasha._

_“You’ve been doing nice work, kid,” Vallory said, her raspy voice grating against Rhys’ ears._

_“Th-thanks,” he stammered, not meeting her eyes._

_“Mhmm,” she said, her eyes roving over his body. “I know how much you love slutting it up.”_

_Rhys knew his cheeks were flaming, and he pulled back clumsily as Vallory reached to put her hand on his shoulder._

_“What are you doing, Rhysie?” she snarled as he managed to evade her grasp._

_Rhysie? Had she ever called him that before? He didn’t even have time to think about it before her hand crashed into his cheek, her nails drawing blood. Rhys recoiled with a yelp, clutching at his face with his hand as he stared at her with wide eyes._

_“Come on, kid,” she said in a falsely sweet voice, trying to back him into the wall. “You can’t go whoring around without saving a little something for me.”_

_He tried to escape, but her grip on him was unyielding. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t. “Please!” he said, his eyes begging for mercy._

_Her hand crashed into his face again, and he felt his lip split. He looked up and saw murder in her eyes, her eyes that were… green and blue? “J-Jack?” he exhaled, utterly confused because this wasn’t happening, was it?_

_Rhys blinked, and suddenly it was Vallory again, throwing him onto the floor with a sickening thud. She was quick to whip out a pistol and pressed it against Rhys’ head, keeping him pinned to the floor._

_“Finch! Kroger!” Vallory growled, her goons running over towards her within seconds. “Bring ‘em out.”_

_As Rhys’ eyes widened in horror, his parents were dragged out into the room, their mouths gagged and limbs tied. “Please don’t! Please! I’ll do anything!”_

_Vallory’s elbow was fast as it crashed into Rhys’ father’s face, and the man let out a groan as blood began to drip._

_“They didn’t mean to! I swear, they didn’t mean to!” Rhys shouted, realizing what Vallory had planned.  “I’ll finish the job, I’ll finish hundreds of jobs if you just stop hurting them!”_

_His parents’ expressions were sad, and Rhys realized that despite his hopes of secrecy, his parents knew about the dirty work he was doing for Vallory._

_“Kroger,” Vallory said, winking at the man holding Rhys’ mother’s weak body. He slid a knife out of a sheath in his sleeve and, in one fluid motion, dragged it across her throat._

_“M-mom! No! You bitch! H-how c-c-could y-” he couldn’t finish his thought, breaking off into sobs._

_Another nod of Vallory’s head, and Finch did the same to Rhys’ dad._

_“You liar!” Rhys screamed, his eyes clouding with tears. “You said if I did it you’d l-let them go, you promised. You pr-promised!”_

_Vallory’s cackle was loud in his head, pulling her gun away from Rhys as she doubled over with laughter. When she stood back up, still wheezing, the scar that cut through her left eye was stretching before arching down over her right cheek in an upside-down V. Her voice was becoming stronger and more youthful, and soon it was Jack’s laughter reverberating off the walls._

_Rhys shouted in panic and tried to crawl away from Jack’s leering stature and towards the corpses of his parents. He reached out to touch his mother’s hand, to hold onto something, to ground himself, as if this would somehow bring her back into the world of the living._

_“Please,” he whimpered, shuddering at the continued laughter behind him. “Please, please come back.”_

_Another tear slipped down his cheek as he continued to pull himself forwards, his entire body shaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, finally interlocking the fingers of his right hand with his mother’s. “I let you down again, I’m s-sorry.”_

_There was a horrible snapping sound and then Rhys was crying out in pain, hot and sharp as Jack’s steel-toed boot ground down on his fingers. Fingernails scraped against his scalp, jerking his face upwards in the same rough manner in which many of his “assignments” had while he was on his knees for them._

_“Don’t touch me!” he said, trying to pull away. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”_

_The fingers only dug in deeper, yanking Rhys’ hair despite his struggling. “Quit whining,” Jack growled, his voice morphing back into Vallory’s. “A stupid slut like you needs to be taught a lesson.”_

_She released her grip on him, and Rhys barely had time to let out a sigh of relief before a loud banging sound caused his vision to go fuzzy, his ears ringing. He lifted his head to see his parents’ bodies flickering in and out of existence, a sharp prick on the back of his neck causing his eyes to cross and head throb in pain. He tried to raise himself off of his stomach, but his right arm wasn’t working properly, wasn’t responding. He looked to see if maybe it was lodged beneath something before he saw the problem: His arm was gone._

_He pressed the palm of his left hand against the gaping hole in his side, trying to staunch the blood. There was a sizzling sound, and fuck, everything hurt. His brain supplied that it was a corrosive round that had gone off, but his mind was so jumbled that the thought was immediately lost, overwhelmed in the pain, the loneliness, the guilt._

_He squinted his eyes shut, opening them again to find himself in another bedroom. Lilith was straddling his hips, her blue tattoos glowing as she rid herself of her clothes. She pressed her lips against Rhys’, and he was glued to the spot, unable to pull away. When she pulled back from his mouth, her neck was stained in red, the originally thin line of crimson widening until the paleness of her flesh was all but invisible, leaving Rhys to drown in the blood beneath her._

_He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just Lilith’s blood, it was everyone’s; it was his parents’ blood, the blood from his stump of a shoulder, the blood from every single job he’d completed just as he’d been told to. And for what?_

_The pressure was immense, and Rhys felt himself being pulled under. He just wanted for it all to end, just make it stop, make it stop._

_Another face appeared amidst the chaos--Jack’s face. The pain in his eyes was physically torturous, and Rhys wondered which one of his numerous fuck-ups had caused him to impart agony on one of the only people he truly cared about._

_He wanted to apologize, but his lips wouldn’t move, his tongue wouldn’t work. Jack’s face just continued to grow in intensity, and soon all the blood and corpses and memories around him vanished in a white light._

“J-Jack?” he asked softly, feeling groggy.

“Hey cupcake,” the man in question said with a smile, although he still looked far too worried for Rhys’ liking.

Rhys bit his lip, finding it already bruised and trickling blood. He pressed his body against the nearest surface, trying to rest and figure out what the fuck was going on. The nearest surface, it turned out, was Jack’s chest.

He breathed in deeply, smelling a gross combination of blood and tears but also Jack’s cologne, which calmed him slightly.

“Is it really you?” he asked cautiously, waiting for him to morph back into Vallory at any moment and drag him back into hell.

Jack nodded. “Of course it is, pumpkin.”

Rhys sighed in content, leaning back into the support of Jack’s body. He felt a stabbing pain as his lungs pushed against bruised ribs, but he managed to stifle a whine. Jack’s arms wrapped around him gently, and despite his initial flinch at the contact, Rhys allowed himself to be embraced. He closed his eyes, for a moment feeling slightly at peace.

But a moment only lasts for so long.


	9. Call Me, Beep Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is about two milliseconds from blowing Vasquez's head off.
> 
> Also, took some artistic license and not everything on Helios is Hyperion, Atlas used to have sectors there as well.

“Hey _Ass_ quez, you there? I’m ready to make that trade.”

There was a staticky noise, and Vasquez’s shit-eating grin materialized on the screen. Jack’s fists were already clenched at his sides, and he’d have loved nothing more than to deck the man. He let out a low growl, narrowing his eyes. Wilhelm had reestablished the camera output, so Jack knew that his rage was quite clearly visible.

“Hello, Jack. So kind of you to finally come to your senses.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack snapped, his gaze landing on Rhys’ unconscious figure in the background. “Just tell me where you are so we can finish this fucking thing.”

“Easy, tiger,” Vasquez said, his voice making Jack’s skin crawl. “Let me see that vault key first.”

Jack motioned to Sasha, who was slowly turning in circles on Jack’s desk chair with the key in her lap. She brought the key over to him, the metallic purple paint glistening in the light.

Vasquez whistled, taking in the sight. “Atlas is going to be _very_ happy with this; very happy indeed.”

“Atlas?” Jack asked, faltering.

Vasquez snorted. “What, do you think I’m about to go open a vault all by myself? I’m not planning on going anywhere near some freaking monster.”

Jack could hear his heart pounding as Vasquez continued to speak smugly. “This key is going to rebuild an entire empire, Jack. And this time, I’m coming out on top.”

Jack’s mind was reeling. Atlas? Seriously? That was just plain desperate. Did he really think that he could crush Hyperion, even with whatever awesome shit came out of a vault?

“Okay, whatever,” Jack said, blowing him off. The asshole probably expected him to cower in fear or something, considering how much his expression had darkened, but Jack would give him no such satisfaction. “Seriously, can we make this trade already or what?”

Vasquez stepped closer to Rhys, placing his hand on his non-bloodied shoulder.

“Isn’t that nice, Rhysie?” he cooed in a falsetto voice as he shook him. Rhys didn’t respond, his head swaying limply with Vasquez’s movements. “Jack here can’t wait to get his hands on you.”

“Don’t call him that!” Jack hissed, seething.

Vasquez simply smirked. “Are you this clingy with everyone you put your dick in?”

Jack already had a retort on his tongue, but Vasquez hurried to continue his little speech before he could get a word in.

“Come on, Jack. You don’t have to lie to me like you lie to him.”

Rhys groaned, tugging slightly against his restraints, although he remained unconscious. Concern flitted across Jack’s features, both at Rhys’ physical condition and the implication of Vasquez’s words.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting attached!” Vasquez scoffed.

Jack ignored him. “Where. Is. Rhys.”

Vasquez looked quite self-satisfied, and Jack’s blood was all but boiling. “I’m sending you a meeting location now.”

“Yes, I know your number,” Vasquez added, seeing the surprised look on Jack’s face. “Your boy toy here had it so nicely programmed into that eye of his.”

He patted Rhys’ auburn hair as he spoke, and Jack swore he was seeing red. His rage was interrupted by the dinging of his phone. A message displaying a set of coordinates flashed across the screen, and his chest tightened in anticipation. It was almost over now. Rhys was almost safe.

“Meet me in half an hour,” Vasquez said before turning on his heel. “Oh, and come alone. If you try to pull anything, I’ll have the Loader Bot snap his neck.”

The call disconnected, and the image emitting from the palm of Rhys’ cybernetic arm flickered off, plunging Jack into a chilling terror. For the next thirty minutes, he’d be blind.

“So what’s the plan, Jackie?” Nisha asked, stepping into the dimly lit office.

“We’re meeting in half an hour,” Jack said, hurriedly typing on his computer. “I’m putting you on standby.”

Nisha looked ready to protest, but Sasha, who’d observed the entire conversation, quickly explained the situation to her.

“Does this mean we’re not killing this asshole?” Nisha said, already looking disappointed.

“Oh, we’re killing the bastard,” Jack said darkly. “Once I get Rhys out of there, we’re following Vasquez back to his Atlas nest and killing all those sons of taints.”

Nisha grinned, always in the mood for some bloodshed. “I’ll go grab my pistols.”

“What about us?” Sasha asked after Nisha left, gesturing to herself and Tim, who’d been hovering in the corner.

“I tripped these earpieces out so we can talk on a private wavelength,” Jack said, handing one piece of metal he’d programmed to Tim and tucking the other behind his ear. “I need someone with a sexy, sexy voice to be my eyes on the outside.”

Tim took the earpiece before furrowing his brow at Jack. “Wait, but we have the same v--”

“And you,” Jack said, cutting him off and turning to Sasha. “Are going to go home and think about how lucky you are that I didn’t kill you.”

Sasha huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “In your dreams, idiot.”

“I _said_ ,” Jack repeated coolly, staring Sasha down. “You’re going to stay out of my way and not cause any more problems.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “I thought we’d already established that the only thing causing any problems is _your_ overreacting. Besides, I don’t have to go to the meeting with you. But I _am_ coming with Nisha to help with cleanup.”

“Fine,” Jack grumbled, knowing he wasn’t going to win this fight. “Load up the key for me, would ya? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I get to beat this asshole’s brains out."

* * *

Jack arrived in a seemingly abandoned Atlas office at the exact time Vasquez had indicated. However, much to his dismay, the room remained empty. There were a few dust-covered cubicles pushed into the corner, and the rest of the furniture was nowhere to be seen. He dragged his fingertips over one of the desks, staining them grey with dust and revealing part of the Atlas symbol.

He heard the creaking of a door, and he spun around, reflexively reaching for the gun at his thigh.

“Relax,” came a sickening voice from across the room, and Jack had to consciously fight the nearly overpowering desire to fire a round directly through his greasy forehead. “You should be happy to see me.”

“Sure,” Jack said lowly, his eyes flicking over Vasquez’s form. He carefully lifted the key out of its case, feeling Vasquez’s eyes boring into him, and set it onto one of the desks. He then stepped aside so that Vasquez could inspect it, folding his arms over the chest. The key looked damn good, and Vasquez seemed to agree, what with the way he was practically fucking it with his eyes.

Jack quickly grew tired of the lovefest, and he sauntered back over towards Vasquez.

"Where is he?" Jack growled, standing up straight so that his height matched Vasquez's. "I held up my end of the deal, now you hold up yours."

The other man simply laughed, his booming voice only intensifying Jack's rage. Every instinct told him to shoot this asshole right here and right now, but who knew how many other Atlas goons would attack them if anything went south-- or what might happen to Rhys.

"Y'know, Jack, I never took you for the domestic type," Vasquez said with a smirk. "To give up the power of a vault key for a whiny Pandoran? Pfft, I thought you had at least some class."

Jack's fists subconsciously clenched at his sides, and it was only Tim's voice in his earpiece telling him to stay calm that kept him from completely losing it.

"He's got a few screws loose in his head, that's for sure," Vasquez laughed. "I'm sure he's still a good fuck, but he's definitely not all there.”

"Breathe. C'mon, Jack, we're almost there," Tim whispered, forcing Jack to swallow the insult already coming out of his mouth.

"Alright," Jack said, clapping his hands together in clearly mock excitement. "I gave you the vault key," he paused, gesturing towards the shiny piece of purple craftsmanship. "It's time to pay up."

Vasquez chuckled before tossing Jack a small blue key with the Atlas insignia on it. "He's down in the old Atlas storage bay area. Hard to miss him with how loud he's been screaming lately," Vasquez added, smiling at how Jack had started to squirm. "Although you'd know that, wouldn't you? After all, you had a front row seat for all of that piece of shit's whining around. I'm actually jealous, I heard I missed some of the best parts."

Jack was tensed and ready to pounce on Vasquez at that point, wanting nothing more than to rip his stupid smirk off his face. But Vasquez was already turning to load the fake vault key back into its carrying container, which he tucked under the arm of his perfectly ironed suit jacket.

It didn't escape Jack's eyes that the grey material was speckled with blood.

"Have fun with your boy toy," Vasquez said as he made his way to the stairs. "At least, with what's left of him."

Jack sprung into action as soon as the stairwell door closed behind Vasquez, barking orders at Tim to get a read on Rhys' location. He knew the general area-- it was a few floors below where he'd found Rhys' cybernetic arm-- and quickly jammed his finger against the down button to call an elevator. It seemed to take an hour to arrive, and Jack's finger was getting tired from continually pressing it in a panic.

When the doors slid open with a ding, Jack shoved his way into the elevator, pushing out a few Hyperion employees and hissing at them to take the stairs. He really didn't have time for this shit; and judging by Vasquez's smarmy remarks, Rhys didn't have time for it either. He swiped his thumb across a barely visible fingerprint scanner, clearing out the floor selections made by the now elevator-less employees and slamming his fist sideways against the button for the 31st floor. He glared at the elevator's double doors, silently daring anyone to force them to open before he reached he destination. In his current state of unadulterated rage, he was perfectly fine with shooting any son of a taint that tried to get in his way.

Luckily for Jack's anxious mind (not to mention any unfortunate sap who thought of summoning the elevator), the doors didn't slide open until the digital blue numbers on the wall read 31. He squeezed himself out of the elevator, not even bothering to wait until the doors were fully open. He had to get to Rhys. _Now._

"I've sent the coordinates to your ECHO," Tim said, already having scanned the key now clutched tightly in Jack's sweaty fist. "It looks like some sort of interrogation room. Hell, I didn't know Atlas even had those."

Jack growled under his breath, not liking the implications. If this room was anything like Hyperion's, its features alone could do serious damage.

"I'm sending the girls down to meet you there," Tim said as Jack continued to sprint towards the coordinates projected on the screen of his ECHOcomm.

"No," he snarled, suddenly defensive. "I need to find him first, make sure he's okay. I'll call for them when I'm ready."

Tim's small sigh was a clear indication of his desire to protest Jack's demands, but he didn't voice them. There was something clearly wrong with Rhys, and not just in a physical manner. "Okay," he said finally, watching as Jack's coordinates approached the ones Vasquez had given him. "Be careful in there."

"Don't worry," Jack chuckled, although it sounded far too murderous for Tim's liking. "I always am."


	10. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finally finds Rhys, but the damage and pain is far from over.

"Rhys?" Jack called, fitting the key into the appropriate lock and opening the door with a sharp click. "You in here, pumpkin?"   


There was a strangled cry, and that was all the confirmation Jack needed before bolting through the doorway.   


"Rhysie?" he said again, glancing around to find himself in some sort of observation room. The stench of a rotting body assaulted his nose, and he turned to see a bloodied bandit corpse lying in the corner. In front of him, there was some sort of control panel. Some of the multicolored buttons had no labels, but the ones that did made Jack feel nauseous. Electrodes, extreme temperature gauges, oxygen level controls-- God, he couldn't wait to get his hands on Vasquez (or, more specifically, around his throat).   


"I did it! I k-killed them, just like you asked!"   


Jack looked up to see there was a slightly tinted window, which he easily identified as one-way glass. And beyond that window... Jack felt his heart shatter in his chest.   


"Please, please no! You've taken everything from me!"   


Rhys' body looked even worse than it had on the video feed, and Jack quickly located the button that would allow him to enter the other room. Rhys was crumpled in a corner, a Loader Bot holding his flailing body in place.   


"Rhys!" he called again, hurrying to disable the Loader Bot's viselike grip. But Rhys didn't respond, looking in the space beyond Jack in panic.   


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he whimpered, and it took Jack a moment to realize that Rhys wasn't talking to him. What had Vasquez done to him?   


A small part of his brain remembered what Tim had discovered earlier, and he searched Rhys' body for any sort of injection site, which proved difficult with the way the man was thrashing about, still pleading with nonexistent enemies. Jack finally located a small needle lodged into Rhys' exposed skin just below his neck, the skin abnormally cold and clammy. It looked like some sort of IV, connected to a port on the wall behind the Loader Bot.   


Jack carefully slid it out from beneath Rhys' skin as he flinched, the point of entry now dotted with blood and a purplish liquid. He then went back to trying to get the Loader Bot to release Rhys, who was still begging for his life. No, not his life-- his parents'. Jack thought back to what Sasha had told him, about what that bitch Vallory had done to Rhys and his family. He felt sick at the thought of Rhys having to relive that again, even if it was only in his mind.    


Rhys screamed all of a sudden, wrenching himself free from the Loader Bot's now-loosened grasp. His left hand, which dangled from a crooked and probably broken wrist, attached itself to his empty right shoulder socket, clawing at the marred flesh where his arm used to be. He was crying now, yelling nonsense, his nails drawing blood from the half-clotted scabs.   


"Rhys! Rhys, look at me!"   


Rhys didn't seem to hear him, didn't seem to register that what he was experiencing was nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination.    


He grabbed Rhys' wrist to stop him from hurting himself even more, and Rhys howled in pain.  _ Yep, _ Jack thought to himself.  _ That wrist was definitely broken. _   


"Rhysie, it's me, it's Jack," he said soothingly, brushing a few strands of Rhys' hair from his sweaty forehead. "Come back to me, baby, please."   


Rhys recoiled at the touch, trying to push himself away from Jack despite already being pressed against the wall. "Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me!" he snarled, his features contorted in anger despite the clear fear and pain in his non-bloodied eye.   


Jack took in Rhys' shaking form, noting with another wave of anger that Rhys was naked save a now blood-speckled pair of boxers. He could barely handle the thought of Vasquez beating Rhys physically; if the man had so much as  _ thought _ about touching Rhys sexually...   


"Th-that was different!" Rhys said, his voice wavering. "I-it was just a j-job!"   


He was trembling more violently now, his speech lower. "P-please," he said again, his voice weak and sounding defeated. "I-I'll d-do it, just l-let them go."   


His body went rigid for a moment, giving Jack enough time to wrap his arms around him before he started to flail again. "Shh, I've got you," he said as he gently pressed Rhys' face against his chest.   


He didn't know how long the drugs would stay in Rhys' system, so he did the one thing he knew how to: he held him. Rhys tried to struggle, but the torturing had made him weak. His breathing was unsteady, and the stench of blood and sweat was overpowering as Jack pressed a kiss to the top of Rhys' head. He didn't care, though; finally, finally he could keep him safe.   


Rhys began to let out pained moans, although Jack's chest absorbed most of the sound. He tightened his grip, providing the pressure and tactile comfort that usually calmed Rhys down after he had nightmares. 

"It's okay, Rhysie. You're safe, it's not real," he said softly. But from the way Rhys was continuing to struggle, it was clear Jack's words hadn't sunk in.   


"I-I'm sorry," he said again, this time with less force. "I-I let you down. I w-won't l-let her get away w-with this."   


He continued to stammer out apologies until his voice faded out, his shudders lessening in intensity until his body went limp. Jack felt a wave of panic wash over him before he felt the warmth of Rhys' breath, irregular as it was, ghost across his collarbone. He hummed as he ran his fingers through Rhys' hair, not caring that it was sticky and matted with blood. Once he was through with every last bastard that had taken part in this little operation, some scarlet on his fingers would be the last of his worries (or, rather, the worries of his dry cleaners).   


"J-Jack?"   


Jack looked down to see Rhys staring up at him from his lap, his functional eye less glossed over than before. His voice was hoarse, and he looked like he was about to slip back into unconsciousness at any moment.   


"Hey cupcake," he said with a smile, although he couldn't help but glance over all of the cuts and bruises littering Rhys' body.   


Rhys must've noticed, because he shifted so that less of his skin was in view of Jack. "Is it really you?"   


Jack nodded. "Of course it is, pumpkin."   


Rhys sighed in content, although he winced at the sudden deflation of his lungs against what were clearly broken ribs. Jack had to hold back a shudder at the thought of what else Rhys might've seen while hallucinating, especially involving himself.   


"I thought you'd never come," Rhys murmured, pressing his face against Jack's chest again.   


"And leave you here with that psycho?" Jack asked, laughing, as he put his arm around Rhys' back.   


Rhys just shrugged, curling into himself more tightly. The distraught look on his face made Jack itch even further for some sort of revenge, for retribution against the damage done to Rhys' mind and body.   


Rhys let out a whine, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his fist as he wrapped his arm around his knees, which he'd brought up to his chest.    


"Rhys," Jack said, placing a hand on his shoulder; it reminded him of how Vasquez had done the same thing no more than an hour ago, and he felt sick. "Babe, I need you to stay with me."   


"It hurts," he said quietly, sounding far more vulnerable than Jack could ever remember. "It hurts so bad."   


"What hurts, Rhysie?" Jack asked, shifting to carefully inspect the bruises and contusions littering Rhys' skin.   


Rhys didn't respond, slowly rocking back and forth.    


"Please, let me help you," Jack said as softly as possible, refraining from touching Rhys despite how badly he ached to do so.    


Rhys shook his head, scrunching his face in the way Jack knew he did on those rare occasions when Jack caught him crying.    


"Did he touch you?" he asked, swallowing hard. He didn't know what he would do if Rhys' answer was yes.   


But Rhys simply shook his head again, and Jack felt a sense of relief flood him. It was short lived, however, as Rhys started to speak again in a trembling voice.    


"Th-they did. They a-all did."

"Who, Rhys?" Jack said, his voice low and defensive. "Who put their hands on you?"   


"I didn't want to!" Rhys said frantically as Jack stared at him in confusion. "I never wanted to."   


Jack hummed as he looked Rhys over, his gaze landing on his panicked hazel eye and the blood coating the other half of his face.   


"P-please don't go, Jack."   


Jack huffed, gently pulling Rhys into another embrace. "I'm not going anywhere, cupcake."   


"But he's right," Rhys said, his voice cracking. "He's right about me."   


"Who?" Jack asked, nestling Rhys' head in the crook of his neck. "That asshole Vasquez?"   


Rhys flinched at the name, and Jack reached to run his hand over his back, soothing him.   


"I fucked up, Jack," Rhys said, his voice hitching. "I fucked everything up."   


Jack pulled back from Rhys, looking into his eyes as he softly brushed his thumb over Rhys' split lip. "None of this is your fault, Rhysie. I promise you, once I finish with him there won't be anything left to airlock."   


Rhys felt his lip begin to tremble, averting his gaze. "He knows," Rhys said, choking back a sob. "He knows everything."   


"Shh," Jack said, rubbing his back again. "It's okay, it's going to be okay."   


"B-but it's not," Rhys said, trying and failing to untangle himself from Jack. "You don’t know w-what I d-did.”

Rhys’ chest felt unbearably tight, and his surroundings were flickering in and out of existence. He was in that disgusting, muggy torture chamber, and then suddenly, he was back on Pandora, in the cold air and the red dirt and the--

“Rhys,” Jack said, seeing the man in his lap starting to fade out of awareness again. “I don’t care what you did, okay?”

Rhys tilted his head slightly to the side, not completely comprehending Jack’s words. Jack’s lips on his forehead, however, was something he understood.

“I love you Rhys,” Jack said, pulling him as close as he could without agitating his broken limbs and bruises. “I’m never letting you go again. I’m so, so sorry.”

He could feel Rhys smile against his chest, the hand that he still had left cupping Jack’s cheek lightly. He grimaced at the pressure it put on his wrist, but the reassurance that Jack was real and Jack was here and oh God Jack loved him was all he cared about.

“You think you can stand?” Jack asked, meeting Rhys’ gaze and shuddering slightly at the sight of his missing eye.

“Uhh...” Rhys tried to push himself up, and with a generous amount of help on Jack’s part, he was able to shakily stay on his feet. Jack took Rhys’ arm and gently draped it over his shoulders, supporting him as they hobbled towards the door.

“We’re almost there,” Jack reassured him, painfully aware of the mental torment their surroundings were somehow still causing Rhys.

Rhys nodded, clenching his jaw at the pain shooting through his limbs. He watched as Jack reached out the arm not supporting Rhys to grab the wall and hoist them through to the observation room.

But then Jack froze, looking to Rhys in confusion. Rhys tried to reason out what was going on, but the combination of drugs, lack of sleep and overwhelming pain were quickly turning his brain into mush. Rhys saw Jack’s lips form the words “it’s locked” before the world was spinning around him, turning black around the edges as his cheek was met with something hard and cold.

There was a loud, reverberating laughter, one full of self-satisfaction and pride. This time, however, the laughter wasn’t just in Rhys’ head.


	11. Gettin' the Gang Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, comfort, and awful humor-- what more could you ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry i'm slow af updating this

“Rhys! Rhys, c’mon babe, wake up!”

Rhys groaned from where he was slumped overtop Jack on the floor, but still remained unconscious. Jack continued to shake Rhys’ shoulder, although the man showed no signs of rousing; he was bleeding from both his empty arm socket and neural port, and he looked even paler than usual.

“What do you want?” Jack growled, locking eyes with Vasquez, who now stood at the control panel with a disgustingly smug look on his face.

“How stupid do you think I am?” Vasquez asked, looking way too drunk on power.

“With a nickname like Wallethead?” Jack said, something fiery awakening inside of him. “Very.”

Vasquez glared, fiddling with a few switches on the control panel as Jack continued his futile attempt to wake Rhys.

“Honestly, Jack? I used to think of you as a genius, a hero,” Vasquez said, leering. “But now I see you’re just as pathetic as the rest of them.”

Jack didn’t respond, his body tense.

“Letting him seduce you? Really? Under all that hair gel, he’s just another useless Pandoran _whore_.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Jack snapped, curling over Rhys protectively as Rhys began muttering nonsense to himself in distress.

“Quit acting like an idiot,” Vasquez said, his tone clipped.

Jack noticed the sound of a hiss of air from a newly exposed vent, realization dawning on him as he was met with a chuckle from Vasquez.

“Come on; there’s no way I can just let my rival live! Even with a Vault, Atlas can’t rise until Hyperion’s out of the way.”

Jack felt sleep tugging at him, registering the presence of poisonous gas slowly filling the chamber. More alarmingly, he’d noticed that Rhys’ incoherent mumbling had stopped, and the man’s chest was barely rising and falling. Jack felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t lose Rhys, not again.

“Rhysie,” he said softly, brushing Rhys’ hair off of his forehead, which was damp with perspiration. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

If he hadn’t yelled at Rhys, if he hadn’t let his jealousy and paranoia get the best of him, if he hadn’t started that stupid fucking fight that had driven Rhys away, then maybe Rhys wouldn’t be dying in his arms.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes beginning to slip closed. “I love you so much.”

When he felt unconsciousness dragging him down again, he didn’t fight it. Without Rhys, he didn’t know how he could ever continue living. He drew in what he knew would be his last breath before succumbing to the darkness.

* * *

“God, why is he so fucking heavy?”

“At least you’re not carrying Legs McGee over here.”

“Would you two quit complaining? We need to get them back to the apartment.”

Jack awoke to the familiar sound of his friends bickering, groaning as light filtered into his slowly opening eyes.

“Oh thank God, he’s awake.”

Jack had barely registered Nisha’s words when he was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor.

“The fuck?!”

“You need to lay off the pretzels, asshole,” Nisha said, scowling as she massaged her now-sore arms.

“I’ll have you know that this is pure muscle, cupcake,” Jack replied, pushing himself shakily to his feet.

“Good,” Sasha said, and Jack saw that she was hunched over beneath Rhys’ weight as his arm was slung over her shoulder. “Then put those arms to work and carry your boyfriend for me.”

Jack made a face at her before shifting Rhys so that he was leaning against Jack’s own body, Sasha sighing in relief. Despite how thin Rhys looked, he was by no means light to carry without assistance.

“You know, I did just wake up too,” Jack said, huffing as he dragged Rhys along toward the elevator.

“And that means you’re capable of helping,” Tim said, his voice projecting from the speaker on Nisha’s ECHOcomm.

“Thanks for the concern,” Jack replied bitterly.

“Hey, you should be thanking _us_ for rescuing your asses,” Sasha said, pressing the button to summon the elevator.

Jack shifted in his spot, readjusting his grip on Rhys. “Oh yeah… how did you even find us?”

Sasha rolled her eyes as Nisha began to speak.

“Did you really think we were just gonna sit tight while you got to have all the fun?”

“I told Tim to have you wait for my signal,” Jack said, glancing angrily at Nisha’s phone as if Tim would be able to see his expression.

“And _we_ told Tim no way,” Sasha said, stepping into the now open elevator.

The shuffle of fabric Jack could hear over the phone speakers told him that Tim was shrugging, and he sighed in annoyance.

“Hey man, you guys would be dead without them,” Tim said defensively.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Jack said, jabbing the button to take them back to his penthouse. “Let’s just get home so I can patch this kid up.”

Sasha glanced at the growing pool of blood on the elevator floor, pressing her body against the wall as to not stain her shoes. “Shouldn’t we, y’know, take him to a hospital?”

Jack shook his head, looking slightly less concerned now that he knew Rhys would be getting help soon. “It’s not safe.”

“Oh, of course,” Sasha said sarcastically. “Doctors whose job it is to _save people’s lives_ aren’t safe.”

Nisha shrugged, apparently also on Jack’s side. “You’d be surprised.”

“Well, I hope one of you knows how to sew stitches, because he’s still bleeding,” Sasha said, her annoyance giving way to worry. She never thought she’d have to see Rhys unconscious and bleeding like that again, and it was dredging up those awful memories for the second time in a day. She really, really hoped Jack had tea at his house. And maybe some alcohol.

“Don’t worry, I know a guy,” Tim said, his voice optimistic.

“Wilhelm,” Nisha said, unamused at Tim’s attempt to be mysterious. “He means Wilhelm.”

“Why do you have to ruin everything,” Tim whined, causing both Nisha and Sasha to chuckle. Jack, however, was looking grim once again, especially as he could feel fresh blood staining his shirt from Rhys’ side.

“He used to patch us up all the time on Elpis while we were Vault hunting,” Nisha explained, as Sasha still looked confused. “Let’s just hope he still remembers his shit.”

“With how often you got injured, how could he not?” Tim piped up, his scorn clearly directed at Nisha.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and the group exited, Rhys still a deadweight in Jack’s arms. He’d shifted to carry him bridal style, already resigning to have to burn his blood-soaked shirt. He grunted as he hoisted Rhys up further, ordering Nisha and Sasha to walk faster or he’d hit them with Rhys’ stupid stun baton.

Tim opened the door for them as they approached, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. He look nauseous at the sight of Rhys’ condition, and Jack realized that Tim hadn’t seen the worst of it, what with Vasquez cutting off the video feed.

Fuck. _Vasquez._

“How did you guys get us away from that asshole?” Jack asked, eyes widening as another thought occurred to him. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“‘Course not,” Nisha said, looking as though Jack was doubting her intelligence. “Figured you’d like the honors.”

“Hell yeah I would,” Jack said, laying Rhys down carefully on Wilhelm’s makeshift operating table. Calling it an “operating table” was honestly a bit of a stretch, considering it consisted of a ratty towel draped over a coffee table that Jack would now have to replace.

“We locked Vasquez in the interrogation chamber after we knocked him out, tripped the lock so none of those Atlas assholes can break him out,” Sasha said, her gaze shifting nervously from Jack over to Rhys’ bloodied body. “God, I’m going to have so much fun torturing him.”

Jack grinned at Sasha before kneeling at Rhys’ side; he had to admit, the girl was starting to grow on him. Not that he wouldn’t be happy to never see her again once this whole mess was sorted out.

“Jack,” Wilhelm said, drawing his attention from his bittersweet opinion of Sasha. “Where are your drugs?”

“Where are my-- Are you calling me a junkie?”

Wilhelm sighed as he wiped the drying blood from Rhys’ body to take inventory of his injuries. “I mean the drugs you stole from medical.”

Jack wanted to deny the accusation but, well, Wilhelm wasn’t wrong. Besides, there was nothing wrong with taking a few free samples in case he needed to heal himself (or wanted a fun weekend).

He headed to the bathroom, unlocking the safe he kept beneath the sink. He then brought his bag of pharmaceutical goodies out to Wilhelm, who immediately began sifting through them. Jack took Rhys’ unnaturally cold hand as he waited, squeezing it lightly in hopes of letting Rhys know that he wasn’t alone.

“I’m going to need you to hold him down.”

Jack’s eyes snapped up to meet Wilhelm’s, not sure he’d understood him correctly and honestly wishing he hadn’t.

“You want him to live?” Wilhelm asked harshly, unfazed by Jack’s confused apprehension. “Then you keep him still.”

Jack nodded and quickly obeyed, lightly pressing on Rhys’ shallowly rising chest.

“What are you doing?” he said skeptically, watching Wilhelm layer a syringe with samples from the vials of brightly colored liquids. “Those are still experimental!”

“Will you let me do my job?” Wilhelm replied, flicking the barrel of the syringe so that the medications blended together.

Jack bit back a retort about how Wilhelm should know firsthand about the dangers of mixing drugs (didn’t he remember what happened that time he’d had pills and a Moxx-tail together?), knowing it would probably be wisest to keep his mouth shut for once.

“And I said to hold him down, not caress him!”

Jack winced as he pressed down harder atop Rhys’ swirling blue tattoo, especially as Rhys whimpered in pain.

“Sorry buddy,” Wilhelm said to Rhys as he lined the needle up with Rhys’ heart. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Rhys cried out as the needle pierced his skin, his body beginning to convulse as Wilhelm pushed the plunger down. Jack tried his best to hold him still, but Rhys’ shudders were only intensifying in strength. His chest felt tight as he watched Rhys writhe, the younger man’s face contorted in pain as his labored breathing quickened. Jack could feel Rhys’ pulse thundering beneath his fingertips.

“What did you do to him?” Jack yelled, not even bothering to hide his growing panic.

“Saved his life,” Wilhelm said, his voice neutral. “His organs are currently restitching themselves. We’ll have to rewire the cybernetics later when he wakes up, but it should at least get that hallucinogen out of his system.”

Jack nodded, forcing himself to take his friend’s word for it despite his gnawing anxiety.

Rhys was still shaking, but the outward lacerations littering his… well, everything… seemed to be clotting and closing up.

“Thank you,” Jack said quietly, carding his fingers through Rhys’ hair.

“Don’t mention it,” Wilhelm replied, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with his robotic arm. Damn, he was glad that had worked. “I’m going to look into getting him a new arm. There’s morphine on the table that I’ll pretend you just have for medical emergencies. Give it to him when he wakes up.”

Jack saluted Wilhelm with a smile as he exited, leaving Rhys and Jack alone. He figured it was best not to try to move Rhys yet, as some of his deeper wounds hadn’t yet fully healed. He took a seat on the couch behind the coffee table, turning on the TV even though he had no intention of watching it. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of Rhys and, if he was being honest, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to.

He intertwined his fingers with Rhys’, running his thumb in a circle over Rhys’ knuckle to soothe him.

This time when he squeezed Rhys’ hand, he swore Rhys squeezed right back.


	12. What's Going On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys wakes up and acts all loopy on painkillers. It's cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this took forever, i've been losing motivation for writing this (but i'll finish it eventually don't worry). if you want more loopy rhys check out my story "definitely not in denial."

Rhys awoke confused and groggy. He wasn't quite sure where he was or how he'd gotten there, and the amnesia was causing anxiety to pool in his stomach. He could only see out of one eye, and his restricted field of vision only showed him the white expanse of a ceiling. He tried to push himself up to sit (as he soon realized he was lying prone), but it felt as if all his muscles were ripping and breaking at once, and he fell once again onto his back with a groan.   
  
"Hey Rhysie," a voice came softly, and Rhys tried to angle his head towards the noise.   
  
The movement caused another wave of pain to ripple through him, and he couldn't stop himself from crying out. What was wrong with his body? Who was talking to him? And seriously, where the fuck was he?   
  
"It's okay," the voice said, and Rhys made another frantic attempt to find the source. "It's just me."   
  
That answered approximately zero of Rhys' hundreds of questions, and it only served to agitate him further. He lifted his right arm out to grab onto something, anything, either to tug himself upwards or find some sense of grounding, but the appendage... it was missing.   
  
Rhys hissed at the burning in his shoulder blade where muscles expanded and contracting in futility, trying to move a limb that simply no longer existed. He tried to inspect what he knew was probably a wound with his left hand (which was thankfully still attached), but he found that his fingers were interlocked with someone else's.    
  
Huh. That was weird.    
  
"Rhys, would you quit that?"   
  
He furrowed his brow in confusion. How did they know his name? None of this made sense, although his confusion was soon giving way to an intense soreness seeping through his body. Everything hurt, especially his chest. Is that why it had been so hard to breathe?   
  
"You need to calm down, kid. It's not good for those wounds."   
  
Wounds? What had happened to him? He attempted again to move himself upright, his heart hammering at the effort.    
  
"Uh uh, kitten. Can't have you reopening all those pretty stitches."   
  
Rhys looked around frantically as a hand settled on his chest, keeping him pressed on his back. He tried to wriggle out of their grip, but he was weak and in pain and oh god was there anyone here to help him?    
  
"It's alright baby, I'm gonna make it all feel better."   
  
Rhys practically jerked at the words, especially as he remembered all the times his drunken "assignments" had said them to him with a leer. Their hands all over him, his hands around their neck...   
  
"Goddamnit Rhys, would you stop squirming so much?"   
  
Jack sighed in frustration as he tried to uncap the syringe filled with morphine, hoping that the drugs would soothe whatever panic Rhys was now working himself into. Rhys hissed as Jack managed to find a vein and slide the needle under his skin, but his features soon softened.    
  
"See?" Jack said, placing the used needle onto the counter he'd taken it from. "Told you I'd make it feel better."   
  
"Mmm," Rhys said, a blissed out expression appearing on his face. "Tha's right, hmm, Clayton, thank you sssooo much."   
  
Jack froze. Clayton? Who the fuck was Clayton?   
  
"What the hell are you talking about Rhys?" Jack asked, his skin prickling. Had his suspicions (albeit misguided) been right?   
  
"D-don't worry bout it," Rhys said, his words slurring together in his doped up state. "I killed him like- like you asked."   
  
Jack leaned over so that he was hovering atop Rhys and in his field of vision. He thought he'd be relieved when Rhys woke up, but this was a whole new kind of torture. Nothing Rhys said was making sense, although now that Jack thought about it, his words were mirroring those he'd shouted earlier while hallucinating. He figured that was what was happening now, but at least Rhys didn't seem panicked like before.   
  
Damn, Jack really had stolen the good stuff.   
  
Rhys reached up a hand to touch Jack's face, smiling. "You're so p-pretty."   
  
"Yeah, I know, cupcake," Jack said, sighing. Clearly he wasn't about to get any answers from Rhys right now. "You're not too bad yourself."   
  
"S-stop," Rhys said, weakly pushing at Jack's face. "I have a boyfriend."   
  
Jack laughed at that, which only seemed to confuse Rhys.   
  
"He must be a very lucky man," Jack replied, lightly holding Rhys' hand against his cheek.   
  
"Mmm, yeah," Rhys said, his eyes wandering lazily around the ceiling. "He's kind of an asshole though."   
  
Jack snorted. He'd missed Rhys, missed talking to him and feeling his presence; and even high, slightly battered Rhys was better than nothing.   
  
"Thought I, ha, cheated on him," Rhys said, his dopey smile at odds with his words. "But he doesn't know I looove him."   
  
Jack swore his heart stopped in his chest. Sure, Rhys had said those words to him before; but now there was no doubt in his mind that he was telling the truth.   
  
"I love you too, baby," Jack said, interlocking his fingers with Rhys'. "And I'm never letting you go again."   
  
He bent down to plant a kiss on Rhys' forehead, the other man happily humming to himself at the gesture.   
  
"You're cute, you know that, cupcake?" Jack asked.   
  
"Yeah," Rhys said, smiling and closing his eyes. He reopened them moments later, looking around in confusion. "Wheresmyarm?"   
  
"It's, um, it's gone for a bit," Jack said, biting his lip. "Don't worry, it'll be back soon."   
  
"Are you sure?" Rhys asked, his eyes piercing despite his loopy-ness.    
  
"Promise," Jack said, gently ruffling Rhys' hair.   
  
Rhys sighed, closing his eyes. He groaned momentarily as Jack lifted him off the table to situate him on the couch, but didn't seem to be in any lasting pain. He soon fell asleep, and Jack felt content at how peaceful he looked. He was still battered and broken, but at least for now, his worries weren't plaguing him. If only that tranquility could stay forever.    
  
But Jack knew that things would quickly turn to shit again once Rhys woke up. He'd have to endure the painful ordeal of having his cybernetics reattached and rewired, and the even more painful experience of finally telling Jack the truth-- all of it.    



	13. The End is Just the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sorting through a lot of intense emotions that haven't been dealt with in way too long (read: ever), Rhys and Jack reconcile. Basically, a well-deserved happy ending after all the shit these poor kids have endured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! if you made it this far, congrats (i'm lowkey shocked i did lol). hope you enjoyed!

“You’re pretty shitty at keeping promises.”

“Huh?” Jack asked, having dozed off while holding Rhys on the couch. “Oh, you mean about your arm?”

Rhys was once again sober and coherent, and Jack was honestly shocked that Rhys had managed to remember any of their prior conversation, what with how drugged up he’d been.

“Don’t worry,” Jack said, kissing Rhys’ forehead. “Wilhelm will be back soon to rewire all your shiny bits.”

Rhys groaned as he shifted into a seated position. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jack frowned, reaching out and gently rubbing his thumb against a dried speck of blood on Rhys’ chin until it disappeared as he waited for Rhys to speak.

“You said you loved me; you promised.”

Jack flinched, pulling his hand back. “B-but I do!” he said, fumbling over his words. This was  _ not _ where he thought this conversation would be going.

He tried to wrap his arms around Rhys, but the other man retreated and crossed his remaining arm over his chest. “Then why don’t you trust me?”

Jack bit his lip, trying to conceal the fact that he felt like Rhys had just stabbed him in the gut. Maybe it was the residual anger, or the lack of sleep, or the fact that he’d been stressed out of his fucking mind for the past week, but Jack couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth: “Oh, like you’re any better.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to fight with Jack-- at least not originally. But now that his life wasn’t in danger and Jack had basically “started it,” their argument was back at the forefront of his thoughts. The fact that he’d just come down from a very pleasurable high probably wasn’t helping either.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You lied to me,” Jack said angrily, causing Rhys to groan.

“Are you seriously still going on about that? For the millionth time, I didn’t fucking cheat on you!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack growled. “I told you everything about me. You know about my dead fucking daughter, but you couldn’t even tell me the truth about a damn thing! Your fucking ex-girlfriend had to tell me about the first twenty years of your life because clearly  _ I’m _ not deserving of the fucking truth.”

Rhys recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “What did you want me to say? That I came from nothing? That I let half of Pandora fuck me so that I could--” his voice cracked, and he swallowed thickly. “I know you think I’m just a whore, but maybe for once in my life I didn’t want to feel like one.”

Jack’s heart froze in his chest, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him. “You’re not--”

“Oh, shove it, Jack,” Rhys said bitterly, clenching his fist at his side. “I don’t want your fucking pity.”

Rhys paused his tirade to hunch over in a hacking cough, batting Jack’s hand away as the other man tried to rub his back. When he returned to breathing normally, he had tears in his eyes and blood speckled on his arm and lips.

“I just,” Rhys tried again, his voice significantly weaker than before. “I just didn’t want you to think of me differently. I-- I didn’t-- I couldn’t-- risk losing you.”

“Rhysie,” Jack said softly, brushing away a tear that had slipped down Rhys’ cheek. “I told you before, cupcake: Nothing’s gonna make me leave you. And if you think whatever shit you did before affects any of that… well, cupcake, you must not be as smart as I thought you were.”

“I’m plenty smart,” Rhys huffed, as even being half-dead was no excuse for him to lose his pride. “But, uh, thanks, Jack. Really.”

Jack smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to Rhys’ temple port. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.”

Rhys tried to smile at him in return, but the gesture still seemed strained to Jack.

“Besides, kitten” Jack said, because he was anything but a quitter when it came to making his boyfriend feel better. “You’re not special with all that dark past bullshit. In case you don’t remember, I’ve killed a  _ lot _ of people.”

Rhys smiled wryly. “You’re not the only one.”

Jack pulled back in genuine surprise. “Holy shit, Rhysie-- you killed someone?!”

The redness in Rhys’ cheeks darkened. “I thought you said Sasha told you everything…”

Jack laughed, taking Rhys’ hand and covering it in his own. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

Rhys bit his lip, not knowing if he should voice his insecurities but bypassing his verbal filter nonetheless. “So- so you do?” he stammered. “Love me, I mean?”

“Christ, kiddo,” Jack said, sighing in amusement. “How many times do I gotta tell you?”

“Hmm,” Rhys said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind you saying it a few more times.”

“You’re greedy,” Jack said with a grin. “But I love you. I love you so much, like you don’t even know. And I’m never, ever, ever,” he punctuated each word with a kiss, “letting you go again.”

“Aww, that’s adorable!”

Jack glared as his eyes snapped up to meet Sasha’s smug face staring at them from the kitchen doorway.

“S-Sasha!” Rhys said, struggling with both physical pain and embarrassment to stand and greet her.

“In the flesh,” she said, smiling and giving a small bow. “How’re ya feeling, loser?”

Rhys grinned. “Like shit.”

Sasha chuckled, although her expression soon turned serious. “I thought I was gonna lose you again.”

Jack could see shame flicker in Rhys’ eyes, but he didn’t express it. “Do you really think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Sasha sniffled, but smiled again. “I missed you, dumbass. We all did.”

“Sorry,” Rhys said, blushing nervously.

“Don’t be,” Sasha said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Jack interrupted. “He’s still my boyfriend, remember?”

Both Rhys and Sasha snorted at that, honestly surprised that Jack had managed to keep his mouth shut for an extended period of time.

“Relax, would ya?” Sasha said, placing a hand on her hip.

“I don’t think that word’s in Jack’s vocabulary.”

Jack went to sock Rhys in the arm for that comment but stopped when Rhys teasingly begged for mercy on “the only limb he still had attached to his body.”

“Anyways,” Sasha said, drawing out the word until Jack was fully glaring at her. “I came to tell you that Wilhelm’s almost here to rewire Rhys’ robot parts.”

“They’re called cybernetics,” Rhys sourly corrected her.

“They’re  _ called  _ you’re a nerd,” she mimicked, heading back into the kitchen as Rhys flipped her off.

Rhys sighed and turned to Jack. “Why is she so damn difficult?”

“You’re asking me?” Jack asked, placing a hand on his chest in mock surprise. “Believe me, princess-- it was way worse when she had the blow torch.”

“She still has that thing?” Rhys groaned, although Jack could see he was smiling.

“And here I was thinking  _ you _ were intense about that arts and crafts shit.”

Rhys chuckled. “Where’d you think I got it from?”

“I dunno,” Jack said with a shrug. “Thought maybe it was some sort of a gay thing.”

“Shut up,” Rhys muttered, blushing and starting to nervously scratch the back of his neck with his remaining arm.

“Why?” Jack replied, his expression smug. “You look so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

Rhys reclined against Jack’s chest with a sigh, jerking forward slightly as he accidentally put pressure on the socket of his sore right shoulder. Jack gently guided him back down, lightly wrapping his arms around Rhys.

“I missed you,” he whispered into Rhys’ disheveled hair.

“Hmm?” Rhys said, clearly slipping back to sleep.

“After the fight,” Jack clarified, watching as Rhys began to shift uncomfortably. “I thought you’d left me for good.”

Rhys sighed. “It wasn’t exactly easy on me either, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack admitted. “I guess I  _ may _ have overreacted a little bit.”

Rhys quirked a brow. “A little bit?”

Jack sighed. “Listen, I’m sort of new to this whole… trusting people thing.”

“That makes two of us,” Rhys said.

“Just let me finish, would ya? I don’t need you stealing my thunder.”

Rhys chuckled but obliged, leaning back further onto Jack’s chest.

“When I thought-- when that asshole took you-- Christ, kitten, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Really?” Rhys asked, amused. “Because I seem to remember a certain someone running the house in a fucking panic because we were out of pretzels.”

“That’s not the point!” Jack groaned. “The point is- the point is that I can’t live without you, Rhysie. And I- I want us to start being-- god I can’t believe I’m saying this--  _ honest  _ with each other.”

“I’d like that,” Rhys said, listening to Jack’s heartbeat as silence stretched between them.

“I can’t wait to kill that son of a bitch,” Jack growled after a moment, pausing when Rhys didn’t react. “What?”

He glanced down Rhys looking at him with that mischievous look in his eyes.

“I thought you said I’d get the honors,” Rhys said, smirking as he waited for Jack’s response.

Jack whistled lowly. “You know that’s hot as shit, right, pumpkin?”

“Yep,” Rhys replied, nestling back against Jack’s chest.

“After Wilhelm fixes you up, I swear we’re gonna cut that bitch up into a million pieces, burn him, dance on his ashes, do some romantic crap with flowers that you’d like, go back to the penthouse and--”

“Jack,” Rhys said softly, cutting him off. “As fun as that sounds, I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jack said, carding his fingers through Rhys’ hair.

“And besides,” Rhys said, taking Jack’s other hand in his own. “You forgot the part where we make him choke on his stupid cybernetic pinky.”

Jack grinned like it was Christmas, pulling Rhys even closer to him. The real, raw happiness in his eyes was a promise, and not just about their future shared adventures in torture. Rhys’ heart felt so full it was verging on bursting, and he didn’t even feel bad about their unorthodox gestures of romanticism.

Rhys titled his head up so he could see Jack’s face, so he could watch the way Jack’s eyes half-closed when Rhys trailed his fingers across his jaw. 

“I love you,” Rhys said, giving Jack the dorkiest smile and not even caring if Wilhelm walked in. “Now kiss me, asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me, it's been a wild ride. feel free to check out my other fics if you want! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos are always appreciated!  
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://dragonbagel.tumblr.com)


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